


Thank You For This Dance

by matildajones



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Orphan Stiles Stilinski, Pining, Rich Derek, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-04-29 08:39:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 62,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5121905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matildajones/pseuds/matildajones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Derek picks up another glass of champagne, and that’s when he sees him. A man stands at the edge of the room, chewing  his lip and staring at the dance floor longingly. </i><br/> <br/><i>Every person walks past him. Derek must have done it a hundred times this evening. </i><br/>--<br/>Derek is not one for dancing, but at a ball he meets Stiles, an orphan, and he becomes quickly attached. He does not care what other people think about Stiles' wealth and status, but it's a lot harder for Stiles to ignore the comments that have haunted him his whole life.</p>
<p>It's even harder to convince Stiles that Derek's feelings are genuine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emela/gifts).



> Thank you to everyone on tumblr for encouraging me to continue this fic. You are all so lovely!! This is for you all :)
> 
> Thank you also to [Emela](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Emela) on AO3 here, and who is [pale-silver-comb](http://pale-silver-comb.tumblr.com) on tumblr. I really appreciate you reading over this and giving me some more confidence :)

“Derek, it’s a ball.”

Derek glares at his sister, gripping the side of the carriage. Laura’s dress is taking up most of the room and she doesn’t seem to care that they’re moving very fast over the bumps and holes in the road.

“I’m aware it’s a ball, Laura. You have been talking about it for months.”

Laura sighs and touches his arm. “Please.”

Derek looks out the small window. They used to be happy; they used to go to balls simply to dance all evening and eat exquisite food. Now that their parents have died, Laura hasn’t let go of the idea of seeing her brother married.

“You can’t do everything on your own, Derek.”

“I have managed perfectly well for the past four years.”

Laura smiles a little. “Yes. You have.”

Derek sighs. “But it’s not good enough and even though I have you to help me with the estate, I need a wife.”

Laura sits up a little straighter, a spark in her eyes. “Or a husband.”

He immediately blushes.  Ever since Derek told his sister his... preferences, she hasn’t let it go. Derek only told her so that she would stop talking to him about getting married. But she didn’t bat an eyelid and always said that Derek could adopt children.

She just wants him to get married.

She just wants him not to be alone.

“One person,” Laura says.

“What?”

“Please dance with at least one person, and I will let you do whatever you want for the rest of the night,” she says.

Derek rubs his face. He feels the carriage pull to a stop. They’re here.

“Fine.”

Laura squeals, clapping her hands. For a moment Derek feels happy that she’s happy. Then he steps out of the carriage, taking his sister’s arm. He wonders what the night will bring.

**

Derek can’t find a single person to dance with, and he can see Laura fretting at the edge of the room. There are too many people here, too many to choose from, and Derek feels suffocated. He doesn’t introduce himself to anyone even though they give him interested looks.

Derek picks up another glass of champagne, and that’s when he sees him. A man stands at the edge of the room, chewing his lip and staring at the dance floor longingly.

Every person walks past him. Derek must have done it a hundred times this evening.

Derek steps a little closer and sees the tatty state of his clothes, too big and frayed at the edges. Ah. So he’s poor.

Derek doesn’t know he’s been staring until the man glances at him, nostrils flaring. Then he glares at Derek and his eyes catch the candle light, turning a brilliant amber color. It’s fierce and beautiful all at once and Derek’s throat goes dry.

He finishes his drink and walks over. He hates that the man doesn’t seem to like him, and Derek wants to make that right.

“Had enough of staring at me?” the man snaps. “Are you going to say what you’re thinking to my face now?”

Derek looks at his toes. Talking to another person is always harder than it looks. The man’s eyes scrunch up in judgement the longer Derek says nothing and Derek feels like a fool.

“Would you care to dance?” Derek finally says, glancing up.

An alarming amount of expressions pass over the man’s face, from anger to confusion to disbelief, and Derek knows a no when he sees one. He begins to turn away, and he can tell his sister that he tried. He tried his best.

Then there’s a hand on his arm.

“No, um,” the man says. “Are you being serious?”

Derek turns back and smiles a little. His hands feel sweaty. “Perfectly serious.”

“Okay,” the man stutters. “I’m Stiles, by the way.”

“Derek. Derek Hale.”

Stiles’ eyes go wide. “Oh,” he squeaks, cheeks turning pink.

 Derek holds out his arm. Stiles, thankfully, takes it. Despite his strong words at the beginning of their encounter, Stiles is quiet, nibbling on his lip. It is clear that Stiles has never danced before, gripping hard onto Derek’s shoulder and hand.

“Sorry,” Stiles says, when he steps on Derek’s feet.

“It’s fine.”

Stiles looks down at their awkwardly moving feet, and it allows Derek to stare at his face. His lips are a delightful pink and Derek loves the moles that dot his skin.

Derek winces when his toes are stepped on again.

“Sorry!”

“It’s fine.”

“No it’s not! You’re Lord Hale and this is the first dance I have had all night and I have probably broken your toes, _and everyone is staring_ ,” he hisses. Derek looks around and finds that Stiles is right. There are many wandering eyes in the room.

“Don’t pay attention to them,” Derek says.

Stiles glares. “Easier said than done.”

Derek bites his lip, and he suddenly feels brave. He settles his hand more surely on Stiles’ waist and pulls him nearer. Now they’re chest to chest. He feels Stiles’ warm, shaky breath by his cheek.

“Follow my lead,” Derek whispers.

**

They dance two dances and Stiles’ confidence grows. He begins to laugh a little more and it’s the best thing Derek has heard in a while. Derek likes the heat of Stiles’ body against his, likes having Stiles in his space.

Then the dance ends and Stiles takes a step back from him. He looks suddenly nervous.

“Come with me?” he asks.

Derek nods, even though he knows Laura might be watching him. He follows Stiles down a corridor and into an empty room. The door closes and it’s quieter than it has been all night.

“Hi,” Stiles whispers, his face hard to see in the near darkness. A thrill travels down Derek’s spine even though this is all kinds of improper.

Derek reaches for Stiles’ hands, his fingers trembling slightly.

“Thank you for asking me to dance.”

“It was my pleasure,” Derek says sincerely.

Stiles snorts. “I stepped on your toes and the first thing I said to you wasn’t very nice.”

Derek shrugs.

“Let me thank you?”

Derek blinks, not sure what Stiles’ words mean. Stiles smiles a little in the dark but he won’t met Derek’s eyes. He takes a deep breath and then drops to his knees.

Oh.

He feels Stiles’ fingers trace the insides of his thighs and Derek doesn’t know how to hide how much he wants this. Stiles’ hands are moving surely, so surely, reaching for his trousers and Stiles has done this before. It’s clear in the way his fingers move.

“Stiles –”

“It’s okay, I, I want to.”

Derek places his hands on either side of Stiles’ face. Stiles immediately freezes at Derek’s touch, and Derek sweeps a thumb over Stiles’ cheek.

“Please stand up,” Derek whispers.

It takes a moment but Stiles gets to his feet. “I thought...”

“What?”

“I’m an orphan, Derek, you must know that. I have no idea who my parents are and old Lady Burton has raised me since I was young. Everyone knows her mind is only half here, her wealth crumbling away.”

“Stiles.”

“We’re only invited to balls like these to be laughed at.” Stiles chuckles, and it sounds bitter. “And me, no one thinks I’m worth anything. If someone shows interest in me it’s because they want to take me aside and use me.”

“I’m not – I wouldn’t.”

Stiles shrugs. He doesn’t look like he believes Derek just yet. “You followed me in here.”

“You asked me to!”

Stiles’ expression is hard, but then he looks at Derek carefully. “You’re the only person to have danced with me first. You’re the only person that I might miss when you walk away.”

There’s a heavy weight in the room. Derek doesn’t know what to say, but Stiles is the most colorful person he’s met in a long time and Derek wants to say yes to this.

“I’ve never been intimate with anyone before,” Derek admits.

Stiles steps closer to him, their chests pressed together and Derek’s back against the door. It feels a lot different to their innocent dance, so much warmer and daring and alive. Stiles’ breath tickles his face.

“I could, with you, before you get married and face a lifetime of pure boredom in the bedroom.”

Derek’s face flushes and he turns his head away. This is all so improper and _no one_ should talk like that and he wants Stiles to know that it doesn’t matter that he’s an orphan. He doesn’t deserve to be used the way he has, and Derek’s not going to be another person who does that to him.

Derek shakes his head.

Stiles takes a step backwards, surprised.

“May I write to you?” Derek asks.

“What?”

Derek stares at him.

“If – if you really want to.”

Derek smiles. “I do. I want to do this properly with you.”

“What does that _mean_?” Stiles asks, but Derek is already slipping through the door. He makes his way back to the party, already thinking about what he may write. No one pays him a second glance when he returns and Derek would spend the whole night dancing with Stiles if he could.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to [Emela](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Emela) :)

“So you danced with the only questionable person in the room,” Laura says to him.

Derek quickly looks up at her, the smile dropping from his face. Then he sees the teasing glint in her eyes, and he knows his sister doesn’t mean what she says.

Laura squeezes his arm. “I could definitely think of worse people. I’m just happy you danced with someone.”

“I – I thought him very handsome,” Derek says quietly, face going warm. He remembers that strange exchange in that empty room, Stiles on his knees and his eyelashes long in the dark. Derek wonders why Stiles thinks that’s all he’s good for.

“Of course you would,” Laura says. “Only you could look past those awful clothes he was wearing.”

Derek says nothing. He lets Laura rest her head on his shoulder and the ride home seems to take no time at all. Most of the servants have gone to bed when they arrive, but Boyd is still awake. He helps Derek get dressed for bed.

“You and Lady Laura are home later than usual,” Boyd says.

“Are we?”

Boyd remains silent.

“I danced with someone.” Derek pauses. “A man.”

Boyd’s hands still but otherwise he acts as if Derek hasn’t said anything out of the ordinary. Derek likes Boyd, they work well together and he doesn’t pry.

“He was a terrible dancer,” Derek admits, staring at himself in the mirror. He wonders if Stiles has already forgotten him.

Boyd says nothing for a moment. “I am sure he was very impressed with you, sir.”

Derek rolls his eyes.

“Sir?” Boyd says, taking a step back. His hands are clasped in front of him and this is one of the only times Derek has seen Boyd look nervous. “Do you know Miss Reyes? She’s a –”

“A kitchen maid?”

Boyd nods. He takes a deep breath. “She was telling me of an ailment of hers.”

Derek sees the worry on his servant’s face, though Boyd is trying his best to hide it. Derek waits for him to finish.

“Neither of us have the money to send her to a doctor, or pay for medication. May I ask if I could borrow some money, sir, it could come out of my wages –”

Derek smiles gently at him. “It need not come out of your wages, or Miss Reyes’. Send me the bill and I will take care of it.”

Boyd’s eyes widen.

“Thank you, sir.” It takes a moment for him to turn around and walk towards the door. Derek’s about to climb into bed but then Boyd opens his mouth again. “I am sure this man you danced with knows he was very lucky to spend part of the evening with you, sir.”

Then he’s alone in his room once more and Derek can still feel the music of the ballroom through his body, can still remember the exact shade of Stiles’ eyes. Derek wonders what it would have been like to kiss him.

**

_Stiles_ ,

Derek doesn’t know where to start. He doesn’t know Stiles’ full name, but then he remembers that Stiles doesn’t know it either. Derek stares at the words he does have, heart fluttering nervously. He’s never been interested in anyone before.

He has no idea how to court someone.

_If you do not remember me, we danced two dances at the midwinter ball. I do not dance often at events like these, so I remember your face very clearly._

_Will you be at the Crawley ball next month? My sister would like me to attend. I hope to see you there._

_Regards,_

_Derek Hale._

He’s not exactly happy with the words he’s come up with and has no idea how to express to Stiles his intentions. Derek knows that if he rewrites the letter then his words will become stiff, so he seals it and sends it to Lady Burton’s residence.

Derek feels twitchy all week, waiting for a response. He receives many letters about the estate and his businesses, and he’s always disappointed when there’s no word from Stiles.

Laura gives him knowing looks as he waits, but thankfully she says nothing. Derek is starting to think that his night with Stiles was only a dream... but Derek could never have come up with the way Stiles dropped to his knees in front of him.

Derek goes red, again, at the thought. He shakes his head and tries to remember the sound of Stiles’ laughter instead.

**

“Maybe it’s a good thing,” Laura says.

Derek doesn’t respond.

“You know what people will say if –”

Her voice is gentle but Derek hates that his sister cares even a little bit about what people think. There are more important things.

“Just because he’s an orphan –”

“That’s not it,” Laura says quickly. “It’s just, no one know where he’s from.”

Derek stares at her in disbelief, watching the way her cheeks pink up.

“He’s been raised by Lady Burton. She used to be our grandmother’s friend,” Derek tells her.

Laura sighs, pulling on her gloves. They’re both dressed up again, heading to the Crawley ball. It didn’t take long for his sister to persuade him to go, the hope of seeing Stiles strong, but Derek never did end up hearing from him.

Derek wasn’t about to make a fool of himself and send a second letter.

“You look very handsome tonight,” Laura tells him.

Derek leans over and kisses her cheek.

The evening is warmer than it was at the last ball. Derek doesn’t know what to expect. He doesn’t know if he will enjoy his time again, or if he will spend the whole night looking for Stiles.

It takes an hour for Derek to find him, looking out for his tatty clothes amongst the elegant ball gowns. Derek’s heart almost leaps, and he has to remind himself that he doesn’t know Stiles at all.

Stiles is sitting next to a grey haired woman, Lady Burton, and it looks like she’s about to fall asleep despite the loud music. Stiles looks miserable, talking to her faintly, and Derek wonders if he should approach.

But then Stiles lifts his gaze, lips parting when he sees Derek.

Derek closes his eyes for a moment. He makes his way over.

“Lord Hale,” Stiles says, getting to his feet. His words are polite.

“Call me Derek.”

Stiles says nothing.

“Did you get my letter?” Derek asks, trying to sound pleasant.

Stiles’ expression turns uncomfortable. He’s wearing the exact same thing as he wore at the last ball, and Stiles’ fingers pick at a loose thread.

“My handwriting is very messy,” Stiles says, looking anywhere but at Derek. “You wouldn’t have been able to read anything that I wrote.”

Derek winces. His words are stuck in his throat and his fingers curl up into balls by his side. He wants Stiles to _look_ at him; he wants Stiles to have written back.

“I am sure I could have understood it.”

“Impossible.”

“Stiles, please.”

“What?” he says, under his breath. He finally turns to face Derek properly. Derek stares right back at him. “You want me to thank you for being nice to me? For remembering me? I made a fool out of myself in front of you, Lord Hale. I do not understand what you want when you write to me.”

“Only to know you a little better,” Derek says, stepping closer. He wonders if he sounds desperate.

Stiles stares at him in disbelief. “Really? Is that it? Or did you change your mind? Did you want to use me after all?”

Derek flushes. No one is paying attention to them, not even Lady Burton by Stiles’ side, but this kind of talk won’t do either of them any good.

“Stiles,” Derek says, voice low. “I’d never want to use you.”

Stiles turns away, chewing his lip again. Derek tries not to get distracted by it.

“I’ll forgive you for not answering my letter if you dance with me again,” Derek says lightly.

Stiles glares at him. “I never _said_ I’d answer you! There’s nothing to be forgiven.”

“I know,” says Derek. He tries to smile a little. “Maybe I should be the one to dance with _you_ , as an apology for my behaviour just now.”

There’s a long pause in the air and Derek holds his breath.

“Ugh! _Fine_.” Stiles says. He takes one look at Lady Burton and figures she’s okay to be left alone for a moment, and then he stomps around the table.

He looks angry as he makes his way onto the dance floor, and Derek strides over to him, not wanting to waste his chance. He stands in front of Stiles, gently placing a hand around Stiles’ waist. Derek pulls him in. He sees Stiles gulp.

“How many times do you think you will stand on my feet tonight?” Derek teases, drawing him near.

“At least three times,” Stiles says, smirking. “I am still angry at you.”

Derek frowns. Stiles’ fingers are warm in his other hand, and Derek likes the way they feel. He runs his thumb along Stiles’ palm. “Are you really mad at me?”

Stiles flushes. “N-no.”

“Good,” Derek breathes, right by Stiles’ ear. He feels Stiles’ hold of him tighten and the rest of their dance is spent in silence. People are watching them again, but neither of them comments on it. Stiles steps on his feet twice, and he mumbles a soft sorry.

Derek honestly doesn’t mind.

“There,” Stiles says, pulling back when the dance ends. “You’ve had your dance.”

“Thank you,” Derek says. He isn’t going to push his luck by asking for another.

Stiles gives him an unreadable look, gaze lingering on Derek’s face. Derek desperately wants to know what he’s thinking. Then Stiles slips away, and Derek goes to find his sister.

She smiles softly at him.

“When is the next ball?” Derek asks her.

“We could throw one next,” she says.

Derek turns to look at her. “No.”

“Yes!”

“Laura,” he pleads.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I will organize it _and_ I’ll make sure to invite your new friend.”

Derek glances towards the table he found Stiles at. He’s still sitting there with Lady Burton but there’s a faint smile on his face. Derek hopes, beyond anything, that he was the one to put it there.

Laura catches him staring and she stands smug next to him. Derek will probably do anything to see Stiles again, and she knows it.

They will have a ball, and hopefully Stiles will come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked the new chapter!!


	3. Chapter 3

The servants look excited when Laura announces the ball. They chatter almost instantly amongst themselves and they probably don’t realize how much work hosting a ball will be. It’s been a long time since they’ve had one.

Laura’s enthusiasm is infectious. Even Derek finds himself smiling, though he doesn’t quite know what he’s gotten himself into. Derek thinks it will be good for her, and even if things don’t work out with Stiles he’s glad that Laura will enjoy herself.

“Lord Hale?” someone asks.

Derek turns around. Most of the servants have already returned to their posts, but a young woman with curls surrounding her face looks nervously up at him. Her skin is pale and there’s a small rash on her chin.

“Miss Reyes,” he says tentatively. He’s always tried to know the servants’ names but sometimes Derek struggles with it.

She nods, lowering her voice. “Mr. Boyd , he mentioned that you were the one to help me get my medication. Thank you.”

Derek smiles. “I’m happy to help.”

Miss Reyes flashes him a smile. She turns on her heel, her skirt swaying around her knees. “Oh,” she says, just as Derek’s about to leave. Derek faces her again and there’s a small pout on Miss Reyes’ lips. “Could you please tell Mr. Boyd that I would _love_ to go to the fair with him? He’s being awfully shy about it.”

Miss Reyes smirks and before Derek knows it, she disappears.

Laura is at the edge of the room, trying not to laugh at him. “Derek, you are too soft with the servants. Soon they will be getting you to do their jobs.”

Derek grumbles under his breath as he follows Laura up the stairs, but he doesn’t mind. He likes that at least one of his servants is comfortable coming to him and asking for help. He knows he couldn’t run this house without them, that whenever they have guests the servants are up almost all night.

Derek’s life is easy. Not everyone else’s is.

**

Derek wakes up the next morning when Boyd draws open the curtains. The sunlight falls on the bed and Derek groans.

“Good morning, sir.”

 “Boyd,” Derek says. “I heard your friend received her medication.”

Boyd pauses. “Yes. Thank you.”

“I do not think she is very scared of me,” Derek tells him. He’s still lying on his bed, thinking about everything that needs to be done for the ball. He wonders if it’s worth it, if Stiles will even turn up.

“Miss Reyes is like that,” Boyd tells him. “But I do not think anyone here is scared of you.”

Derek sits up. “Yes, you’re right. They’re all more afraid of Laura.”

Boyd says nothing, but his lips are in a smile. Everyone here is fond of his sister, and they always have been. She takes after Derek’s mother in that way.

“Miss Reyes mentioned there was a fair in town,” Derek says, rubbing his eyes. He finally gets to his feet and Boyd lays out what he will be wearing for the day.

“Is there?” Boyd says, his voice careful.

“Perhaps you should take her.”

Boyd looks at him, eyes narrowing in confusion. Derek is failing to be subtle, but he tries to keep an innocent expression on his face.

“She said something to you.”

Derek shrugs. He thinks he sees Boyd blush a little, but it’s hidden by his dark skin.

There are a few moments of silence before Boyd holds out his hand. “The morning post, sir.”

Derek takes the letters with a sigh. He hopes there will be something interesting for once, something other than business. He quickly scans through the letters before his eyes settle on some unfamiliar writing.

Derek looks up at Boyd. His servant is smirking.

“It’s from the Burton residence,” he says.

“Yes, it is,” Derek says, looking down. The writing is messy and Derek’s heart quickens.

“Haven’t you been asking if there have been any letters from there lately?” Boyd asks.

“Thank you, Boyd,” Derek says quickly, cheeks darkening. “Please give me a minute before we get ready for breakfast?”

Boyd nods and Derek rushes to his desk, reaching for the letter opener. When he finally unfolds the paper he can barely take in the words, as few as there are. All he can really see is the signature, Stiles’ name at the bottom of the page.

Derek smiles to himself.

_Lord Hale,_

_We have received Lady Hale’s invitation for the ball you are hosting next month. We have accepted in a separate letter to your sister, but I thought you might like to hear it for yourself._

_I do hope my handwriting is legible._

_Regards,_

_Stiles._

He can hardly believe that Stiles has written to him. His words are brief, but Stiles didn’t have to send them and it gives Derek all kinds of hope.

Derek knows he should get dressed before he writes a reply, but he doesn’t want Stiles to have to wait for his letter. He doesn’t want Stiles to feel like Derek had, wondering if he’ll get a response at all.

_Stiles,_

_Thank you for your letter. I was very happy to receive it. I will be busy during the night to make sure everything runs smoothly, but I will be sure to save a dance for you. Perhaps even two, if the night allows it._

_Please give my regards to Lady Burton,_

_Derek Hale._

**

“You look pleased,” Laura says at breakfast. She’s already eating and Derek can’t blame her. Even though his reply was short, it took him far too long to write. He takes a piece of toast and smiles at his sister.

“Lady Burton and Stiles are coming to the ball,” Derek admits.

Laura smiles, and she’s about to open her mouth when they hear a giggle at the edge of the room. They both look over and one of the servants, Miss Blake, Derek thinks, has a sharp smile on her face.

“Oh, forgive me, milord, I was simply curious.”

Derek looks at her wearily, and she takes his silence to continue.

“Is that Lady Burton’s ward, the orphan?” she asks.

“Yes, it is, Miss Blake,” Laura says shortly. Her tone is dismissive, but Miss Blake ignores her, staring right at Derek.

“If you remember, sir, I worked for them before coming here,” she says.

Derek perks up. “Do you know her ward, then?”

Miss Blake smiles, looking delighted that Derek is still talking to her. Laura shakes her head and mutters something under her breath, spreading butter on her toast.

“Oh yes,” Miss Blake says. “He was always laughing, especially with one of the servants. It was quite improper, you know. My friend tutored him and said he was always disrupting lessons, and he always spoke back to any of Lady Burton’s friends. They had to let me go, couldn’t pay my wages anymore.”

Derek blinks. Miss Blake’s words end sadly, but there’s something strange in her tone. Derek can’t quite put his finger on it.

“Thank you, Miss Blake,” Laura says. “You may leave us now.”

She smiles and Derek shifts uncomfortably when her eyes linger on him. Derek sighs in relief when she exits the room.

Laura looks at him carefully.

“Derek, you know I want you to be happy.”

Derek sighs. “Laura.”

“Are you sure all this talk will make you happy?” she says. “Yesterday I was in town, and you’ve only shared three dances with Stiles but I overheard them talking about how strange it all is.”

Derek glares at her. “I don’t care if they think it’s strange. They can think whatever they want to, and it won’t change what I want.”

“Okay,” she says quickly.

Derek leaves breakfast and he feels mad for the rest of the day. He can only imagine what Stiles must experience firsthand, can already see glimpses of it just from the way their first interaction went. When Derek first approached him, Stiles was expecting scathing remarks.

For heaven’s sake, Stiles was expecting Derek to just _take_ from him. The thought makes his skin itch, but now he can’t stop thinking about Stiles on his knees, chin tilted up as he looked at Derek. His hands had felt so dangerous on Derek’s legs.

Derek doesn’t know how he said no.

Boyd helps him get ready for dinner and he sees his sister again. Laura smiles at him and Derek deflates, remembering that she’s only trying to look out for him. The table is far too empty for them not to speak to each other.

**

_Lord Hale,_

_Your offer of two dances is very generous. I am afraid I am still a terrible dancer and I hope your poor feet can handle it._

_Stiles_

Derek’s fingers trace over the ink, a smile on his face. He doesn’t mind that Stiles’ letters are so short, that he only wrote two sentences before signing his name. Derek’s letters haven’t been works of art either, though he does think it’s a shame to waste so much paper.

He wants to reply and let Stiles know that Derek’s looking forward to showing him his home. He wants to introduce Stiles to his sister. Derek hopes they will like each other.

Even though Laura is enjoying organizing the ball, Derek wants Stiles to know that it’s really for him. It’s all for him.

It’s an excuse to see Stiles again.

Derek sighs. That would probably scare Stiles away.

_Stiles,_

_Perhaps we should increase our number of dances together to three – if only to improve your skills. I think that we could get away with that many._

_When I first saw you, you were looking at the dance floor with some interest. That was what drew my attention to you, and the dances that followed have been my favorite of ours so far. It was then that I heard you laugh._

_Regards,_

_Derek Hale_

He thinks it’s too much to write, and maybe it is, but he wants Stiles to know that Derek noticed him before he noticed that his clothes were shabby. The ball is now a week away and he wants Stiles to look forward to seeing him, he wants Stiles to search for him in the crowd and then demand one of their dances.

God, he even wants Stiles to step on his feet.

**

It’s two days before the ball and the servants have been working hard. The food has been ordered and the music organized and the decorations already hang from the walls. Derek stares at it all, moving out of the way when two footmen carry in an extra table.

“Do you remember our last ball?” Laura asks him.

Derek nods. “Our mother’s birthday.”

“She’ll be happy that we’re moving on, that we’re trying to live without them.”

Derek sighs. He can still remember his mother’s smiling face that night, especially when she had danced with her husband. They had both died when the carriage they were in ran off the road. When they were found most of their belongings had already been stolen, including some pearls that had belonged to Derek’s grandmother.

That had made Derek feel the angriest, the idea of someone taking from his parents without getting help.

Laura touches his arm. “I didn’t mean to make you upset, Derek.”

“I’m not, I just, you were right.”

She raises one eyebrow. “About what this time?”

“I am a little lonely.”

“Oh, Derek. I think maybe we need to invite some of our old friends over. Perhaps that will cheer you up. We can have a small affair, maybe a picnic. I know balls aren’t your favorite,” Laura says.

Derek looks up at her. “But you like them.”

“Yes,” she says, laughing gently. “I cannot _wait_ to show off my dress.”

Derek narrows his eyes. “I hope you didn’t spend too much money on something you will only wear once.”

Laura hums, ignoring him, and Derek smiles fondly to himself. He heads towards the library, where he does most of his business. He likes it because it’s quiet and because hardly anyone bothers him here, but when he returns he sees Miss Blake dusting some of the ornaments.

“Lord Hale,” she says, taking a step towards Derek. Her eyes stay on him as she waits for a reply, but all Derek can do is nod. Laura has never taken to her, and Derek feels the same way. He’s grateful when Miss Blake returns to her cleaning, looking disappointed.

He’s tempted to ask her about Stiles again, but the last time her words hadn’t been friendly.

He works for a few hours, answering letters and looking over finances. His mood lifts when a footman comes in with a letter addressed to him in Stiles’ messy scrawl. Derek reaches for it eagerly, but he’s a lot more nervous than he has been opening Stiles’ other letters.

He doesn’t know what Stiles’ reaction will be to the words he wrote.

_Lord Hale,_

_I would say that I am disadvantaged – you have heard my laugh and I have not heard yours. But I have to say it is a welcome change. When I hear people laugh it is often directed at me._

_I do not believe you when you say you saw my longing to dance before you saw the state of my clothes._ That _is laughable. I hope you remember what I wore, for I will be wearing it again at your ball._

_Stiles_

Derek sighs. No one could forget what Stiles was wearing. It was something so out of place that it should probably be burned.

It’s clear that Stiles is not impressed by him. He probably still thinks that Derek is like the other men who have taken him aside, probably thinks that Derek has some backwards reason for wanting to talk to him. Stiles is probably wondering when Derek will begin to laugh at him too.

Of course when Stiles decides to send a slightly longer letter, it is something that Derek doesn’t care to read.

That’s not true.

Derek could read anything that Stiles wrote, just to hear what he has to say. Derek thinks he may have formed an attachment too quickly, an attachment too strong for how much they know each other. But Derek has not had a person to think about for a long time. He has not wanted to.

He does not bother replying. The ball will be here soon and Stiles will arrive here before any letter of his does. Derek hopes that he can explain himself then, that when the ball comes he can dance with Stiles for as long as possible.

He hopes Stiles is looking forward to seeing him, despite what he says in his letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! :) :) Thank you for all your comments and subscriptions. You guys are making me excited for this au!


	4. Chapter 4

“I wish us servants got to dance,” Miss Reyes says, a pout on her lips.

“You need a partner for that,” Miss Blake says, her voice sharp, eyeing Derek as he comes down the narrow stairs to the kitchens. She doesn’t wait for him to reach the landing before she starts up the stairs herself, passing by too close. Derek grimaces.

It smells wonderful down here, even if it’s rather hectic. It reminds him of the balls they’ve had before, and Derek can slowly feel those memories fading as they are replaced with new ones.

He hears Miss Reyes sigh.

Derek looks at her awkwardly. “Is everything alright?”

She glances up at him. “Miss Blake is right. You do need a partner for dancing.”

Derek gives her a confused look. “I thought... Mr. Boyd?”

Miss Reyes straightens her skirt. Her cheeks are a little pink, but since she has been to the doctor her complexion is noticeably healthier. “You would think so but I don’t think he is interested. We did go to the fair together but... It does not matter.” She smiles at Derek. “He _did_ mention you may have a partner for tonight.”

Derek ducks his head. He has not stopped thinking of Stiles since his last letter, and now the ball is here. In a few hours the house will be full of people and Derek will have to smile politely until he sees who he wants to see.

“Miss Reyes!” the head cook, Mrs. Richards, calls out.  “Lord Hale does not want you bothering him! Come and help, or have you forgotten that we have a ball tonight?”

Derek opens his mouth, because he really does not mind Miss Reyes talking to him, but he’s too late.  Miss Reyes flushes and hurries off, and Derek’s left wondering if Stiles will show tonight.

He inquires about the food and when it will be ready before he heads back upstairs. In the main room the carpet has been rolled back and space has been cleared for dancing.

Laura stands next to him, scanning the room and looking for last minute details to change. Everything looks beautiful to Derek, and he tells her so.

She sighs. “Yes, I know, but I want our home to be impressive.”

“And who are we trying to impress tonight?” Derek teases.

“No one,” Laura admits. “But one does like to take pride in their home. I want our parents to be proud of our home, if they were still here.”

Derek gives her a soft smile. “You’ve done a wonderful job, Laura.”

Laura looks at the floor, pleased. “Thank you,” she says quietly, and Derek may dislike balls but they’re always worth it when he sees his sister happy like this.

After a moment, her face turns determined again. She focuses her gaze on Derek. “You need to get dressed.”

“If I must.”

Laura huffs. “ _You_ are the one who has someone to impress tonight.”

“I doubt Stiles will care about what I am wearing,” Derek tells her.

She waves her hand in the air. “You may be surprised. If you look nice it doesn’t just show wealth, Derek, it can show effort too.”

Derek sighs because he doesn’t think it’s that simple.

He walks to his room and Boyd is waiting for him there. Derek can’t tell if he’s excited about the ball, and Derek’s too nervous about the evening to ask. It’s been a long time since they’ve had so many people in their home, and Derek will be expected to talk to all their guests.

He’s not used to such simple interactions anymore, and his fingers are shaking as he does up his shirt.

“Let me, sir,” Boyd says quietly.

Derek drops his hands, grateful, and lets Boyd dress him. When he is done Derek looks in the mirror and pulls his dark coat over his shoulders. He sees a handsome face and he holds in his breath.

“Were you telling the other servants that I have been sending letters to someone?” Derek asks, voice a little rough.

“No,” Boyd replies, confused. “Sir?”

“Miss Reyes,” Derek says. “She seems to know that I am expecting someone tonight.”

Boyd is quiet for a moment. “Forgive me, sir. I only told her that you danced with someone at another ball, and that you may wish to dance with them again.”

Derek sighs. “That is quite alright, Boyd. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Boyd nods.

“My sister will be waiting for me downstairs,” Derek says.

“Yes.”

“I should go.”

Boyd says nothing and Derek finally drags his eyes away from the mirror. Derek can’t bear to look at himself a moment longer but he thinks Stiles may like what he sees, if Stiles wants to see him at all.

Laura is dressed in a burgundy colored gown, looking anxious when she finally sees him. She reaches for Derek’s arm.

“Do you think everyone has forgotten to come?” she asks.

“No.”

“Do you think they’ve all changed their minds?”

“No,” Derek says, trying to sound encouraging. Then they hear the sounds of a carriage arriving outside and their first guests are here. The music is already playing, the servants are ready, and Laura smiles widely to greet them.

**

Derek doesn’t know how many people his sister invited, but he hasn’t managed to greet everyone. He smiles at those who call his name, recognizing a few people that he hasn’t seen in years, and he talks to them for a minute or so.

Each conversation is harder than he thinks it will be. They all like to mention his parents, sharing fond memories that Derek doesn’t want to hear.

Derek can no longer see Laura nearby and he feels quite alone. He searches for Stiles, for Lady Burton out in the crowd, but he sees no one. He’s beginning to think more and more that the only person he wants to see has decided not to come.

Someone clears their throat behind him, and Derek whips around.

“Stiles,” he breathes. Derek stares, feeling tension slowly leave his shoulders. Stiles _is_ wearing those hideous clothes again, but Derek doesn’t care, his heart almost lighter now that Stiles is standing in front of him.

Stiles frowns. “Are you well?”

Derek snaps out of it. “Yes. Yes. Thank you.” He swallows. “You came.”

“Yes,” Stiles says, shuffling awkwardly. “I said I would.”

Derek feels himself smile, and he looks down at the floor for a moment.

Stiles smirks. “So you’re not mad at me?”

“No?”

He hums. “Perhaps you should be.”

“Why?” Derek asks.

“My last letter to you,” he says. “You probably wanted to read something else.”

Derek shrugs. “I – I only want to read what you have to say.”

Stiles closes his mouth. The smirk has fallen from his lips and now he just looks confused, frustrated. Derek doesn’t know what he said to upset him.

“Besides,” Derek says quickly. “If I was mad, I’d rather not spend the whole night with you in silence again.”

“You’re silent when you’re mad? That is very fitting,” Stiles says, letting out a surprised laugh. Derek is suddenly hit with how happy he is to see Stiles here.

“I am silent a lot of the time,” Derek admits.

“But you would like to talk to me.”

He meets Stiles’ eyes, feeling almost vulnerable. There is a trace of warmth in his eyes, but it fades quickly. Derek doesn’t tell Stiles how much he would like to talk to him, how much he’d like to know what he’s thinking.

Instead he holds out his arm for a dance, and Stiles stares at it.

“Only one dance,” he says.

Derek nods. He only wants what Stiles is willing to give him.

Derek thinks he knows Stiles a little better, even if it’s close to not at all, and it’s thrilling to draw him close again. This time Stiles is quicker on his feet, and Derek can feel Stiles looking at him and looking at him.

There are other couples dancing around, but here, in Derek’s home, he and Stiles are the most looked at. Derek can hear them being talked about and it’s harder to ignore than at the other balls. Stiles grips Derek’s shoulder tighter.

“Are your servants always so interested in who you dance with?” Stiles asks, gritting his teeth together.

Derek turns them around and sees a few of the footmen, their mouths dropped open. Miss Blake stands there with pursed lips, and then there’s Boyd. Even he can’t hide his surprise that Derek chose someone that looks like Stiles.

Derek looks away, bristling with irritation. He stands a little straighter and looks Stiles in the eye.

“It’s only because I’ve never danced with someone here before,” he says.

Stiles snorts, but for some reason he relaxes, body falling against Derek’s. “Lord Hale –”

“Derek.”

Stiles ignores him. “Surely they’ve seen you dance with someone here if this is where you grew up.”

Derek tilts his head to the side, thinking about it. “I remember... dancing with my sister. She liked to tease me a lot when we were learning. And I remember dancing with my mother. But that was a long time ago.”

“Oh,” Stiles says quietly, and that’s when the dance ends. The music fades and people clap but Stiles stays in his arms for a moment, his hand sliding down to Derek’s chest. Derek swallows. Stiles is so close.

“Do you... do you know anything about your parents?” Derek whispers.

Stiles looks at the floor, finally stepping away. He shakes his head.

Derek stares at him. Stiles’ eyes are cast down, eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks. Derek feels frustration bloom within his chest, afraid that Stiles will slip away after this. Derek doesn’t want that. One dance is not enough.

“I think your guests need you,” Stiles finally says.

“I disagree.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow and he mutters something under his breath. “Surely there’s someone else here you’d rather dance with.”

“Have you been out on the balcony yet?” Derek asks, not answering him. “I’ve been told the view is quite pleasant.”

“So?”

“It’s this way,” Derek says quickly, and he hears Stiles groan. It takes a few seconds but Stiles follows him and then they’re outside, the balcony doors wide open and the air clear and free.

Stiles snorts. “You’re right, the view is spectacular.”

They stare out and there’s darkness, only a few stars dotting the sky. It’s too hard to see the gardens at this time of night and Derek shrugs.

At least there are no people. They are still in plain sight, but it’s more private here, with less wandering eyes. Stiles looks over his shoulder like he’s expecting someone to tell him off, but no one does. They wouldn’t dare with Derek as the host of the ball.

Then Stiles’ posture relaxes, and he throws his arms across the balcony ledge. He doesn’t look comfortable exactly, but less on guard. Derek feels hopeful all of a sudden.

“You’re not real,” Stiles finally mutters.

Derek raises an eyebrow. “I am standing right here.”

“You know what I mean,” he says.

“I do not.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t understand you, Lord Hale. People keep on staring and saying rude things under their breath and you don’t even notice!”

Derek looks at him. “I notice. But I know people like to gossip.”

“It’s not simply _gossip_ – oh.” Stiles waves his hands in the air, shaking his head like it’s obvious. “The difference between you and me is that they have never said what they’re thinking to your face.” He hums. “I wonder what that must be like.”

“Stiles,” says Derek, frowning a little. He wants to speak of happier things, things that don’t make Stiles’ lips turn down or his eyes spark in anger.

He sighs. “I honestly thought you’d forget about me,” Stiles says.

“How could I?” Derek says, stepping closer. “When I met you, you were...” _Wonderful_. But Derek can’t say that, it’s too forward.

He puts his hand on the balcony ledge instead, near where Stiles is standing. Stiles stares at it, unsure, but then his cheeks turn a deep red. He shuffles away and Derek drops his hand, disappointed.

“Oh God,” Stiles says, covering his face. “Of course _that’s_ why you remember me.”

Derek blinks.

“We should go back inside,” Stiles says hurriedly, scratching his face.

Derek’s eyes widen. “I wasn’t. I didn’t mean. I wasn’t referring to _that,_ ” he whispers.

Stiles glares at him. “What else could you be referring to?”

Derek sighs. He can’t say that he was drawn to Stiles’ eyes, drawn to the way he didn’t say what he thought Derek wanted to hear.

“Why, why did you lead me aside like that?” he asks instead.

Stiles lifts his chin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Okay.” Derek clears his throat. He didn’t mean for Stiles to feel awkward, and he tries to change the subject. “Did you try any of the desserts?”

“Yes, they were very good,” Stiles says stiffly.

“And is the music to your liking?”

“I don’t mind it – _fine_ ,” Stiles whips around.“I thought you were like them. I thought that was what you wanted.”

Derek turns to him, stunned at Stiles’ sudden outburst.

“But after you told me to stand up I kept going. I kept going because I was trying so hard to prove you were exactly like the rest of them.”

“I don’t want to be like them. I never have.”

Stiles huffs. “You wouldn’t have been the first,” he says deliberately. Derek wonders if Stiles is trying to scare him away, if he’s trying to change Derek’s mind and make him never look back. Well. It’s not going to work.

“I know that.”

“Then why do you want me here? I don’t understand!” Stiles yells. Derek worries they might be heard, but the music is too loud and no one should hear them out here.

No one would think Stiles pure anymore, and Derek shouldn’t want him, but there’s something stopping him from turning around and pretending he never talked to Stiles. There’s something stopping him from forgetting Stiles altogether.

Derek sighs. “I like talking to you. I like dancing with you. I like – I like you.”

Stiles shakes his head, eyes hard. “That makes no sense.”

Derek doesn’t know how to convince him otherwise. Derek wants to reach out and touch Stiles, but he knows that’s probably not a good idea. He takes a breath, trying to figure out what to say, when he hears his name being called.

“Derek!” It’s Laura’s voice. He turns his head and Laura’s suddenly on the balcony with them.

“Laura? What’s wrong?” Derek says.

She shakes her head, finally glancing at Stiles. “Hello, Stiles. It’s lovely to meet you and Derek must introduce us later, but it’s Lady Burton, she’s collapsed.”

Stiles’ eyes widen.

Laura looks at Derek, a little flustered. “We already have the doctor here – Deaton – but I don’t, I’m not sure what’s happening.”

Stiles opens his mouth, staring between the two of them before he decides to rush off. He disappears within the crowd and Derek doesn’t know what to do. He turns to his sister.

“Will Lady Burton be alright?”

Laura shakes her head. “I don’t know. I think so.” She smiles sadly at Derek. “I’m sorry for interrupting you and Stiles.”

Derek sighs. “It’s not what we should be worrying about,” he says. They both head back inside, looking out for Stiles and the doctor, and Derek hopes that everything will be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your lovely comments :) :) I hope you liked their dance together!
> 
> Just to let you know, I have my exams next week (so I probably shouldn't have started a WIP lol) so updates may be a bit slow after this chapter :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to [pale-silver-comb](http://pale-silver-comb.tumblr.com) for your support and enthusiasm!!

 “Her health is poor,” says Deaton, “But right now all she needs is rest.”

Stiles nods, his face pinched. They’re in one of the spare bedrooms, standing around Lady Burton in her bed. Her breaths are short, forehead sweaty, and they listen to her incoherent mumbling.

“You are both welcome to stay here until she is well enough to travel,” Derek says gently. Beside him, Laura murmurs her agreement. Stiles looks up at them, but his expression is unreadable.

Deaton nods. “A week’s rest should be enough.”

Stiles’ mouth drops open. “A whole week? We cannot stay here for that long.”

Deaton narrows his eyes, picking up his things. “You can and you will if you want Lady Burton to recover.”

Stiles turns his head away. Finally, he nods. Derek tries to meet his eyes and offer him a smile. He wishes he could know what Stiles is thinking.

“Of course you are welcome here,” Laura says to Stiles once the doctor has left. “It is nice to meet the man my brother has been talking about so frequently.”

Stiles splutters, cheeks going pink.

“I haven’t been talking that much,” Derek says quickly.

“I – okay,” says Stiles. They both look down at their feet.

Laura sounds amused when she speaks. “I will send up Miss Blake. I am sure she will be disappointed to miss the rest of the ball, but she already knows Lady Burton and she can help make sure she’s comfortable.”

Stiles nods, but he looks uncomfortable at the sound of Miss Blake’s name. Derek doesn’t know how to comfort him.

They stand in silence once Laura returns the ball. Derek is almost grateful that he doesn’t have to go back just yet and talk to all their guests. He glances at Stiles, sees that he’s chewing his lip and staring at Lady Burton worriedly.

Derek takes a step closer to him.  “Would you like to go back to the ball?” he asks. “Or would you like one of the servants to show you to a room?”

Stiles shrugs. “I guess I’m tired.”

Derek nods. He tries to smile. “I am glad you are here,” he whispers, “Even though I am sorry Lady Burton has taken ill.”

Stiles turns, his amber eyes looking dark as he meets Derek’s gaze. Derek wishes he could be happier about the whole situation, he has Stiles staying here for a week, but Stiles looks exhausted and miserable. He looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I’ll have Mr. Boyd look after you,” Derek says. “He’s a good man.”

“Thank you,” Stiles says, looking away. He rubs his eyes.

When Miss Blake arrives her eyes are narrowed and her smile is forced. She keeps glancing between Stiles and Derek, and she’s wearing the same look she wore when she saw the two of them dancing. Stiles says nothing to her.

Derek clears his throat. There’s an odd mix of emotions in the room, none of which he can make sense of. “Stiles and Lady Burton are our guests here; I am sure you and the other staff will make them feel welcome.”

Miss Blake smiles sweetly. “Yes, Lord Hale.”

“My room?” Stiles says quickly, tugging on his too long sleeves.

Stiles lets out a breath once they’re in the hallway. Boyd is waiting outside and to Derek’s relief he is calm and welcoming. He sees Stiles’ shoulders loosen, maybe because he’s too tired to care anymore, and Derek just wants Stiles to enjoy his time here. He hopes it’s not too much to ask.

**

The rest of the ball passes by quickly. Derek keeps thinking back to their conversation on the balcony, disbelief in all of Stiles’ words. He’s calmed by the fact he hasn’t lost his chance, that he has the whole week to spend time with Stiles.

“Lord Hale,” someone says to him. Derek doesn’t recognize the man. “Tonight was something, wasn’t it?”

Derek frowns. “I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

“Oh, I did,” the man says. “It was quite entertaining. And you had an interesting dance partner, didn’t you? We couldn’t help but notice.”

Derek grits his teeth together, not sure what to say. On the surface the man’s words are polite, but his grin is too wide and all Derek can think of is that Stiles _is_ interesting, just not in the way they’re implying.

But then he feels Laura by his side, appearing out of nowhere. “Are you jealous, Mr. Long?” she says, “Did you wish my brother had saved a dance for you?”

Derek bites back a smile.

“No!” Mr. Long splutters, face splotchy. The others around them laugh, and hopefully Stiles is forgotten. “That is, I would not object to dancing with you, sir, Lord – Lord Hale, but I – you wouldn’t want to dance with me. Men are not to my taste.”

Laura raises an eyebrow.

“But better me than an orphan,” Mr. Long finishes, chuckling nervously.

Derek looks at him coldly. “I do not think so.”

He strides past, grateful that his position allows him to be a little rude. Thankfully, the other guests he says goodbye to are friendlier, but Derek is glad that the night is over.

The ball was a success though, and Laura seemed to have a good time. She likes doing all the things that Derek doesn’t. She likes talking to people, likes making sure they are enjoying themselves. Derek is the kind of person who would rather read a book for hours.

Laura kisses his cheek before saying goodnight and Derek retires to his room. Boyd is waiting for him there, and he helps Derek get undressed.

“Did Stiles settle in?” Derek asks, maybe too eagerly.

Boyd looks at him carefully. “I have given him some clothes to wear, and his things should arrive here tomorrow.”

Derek nods. “Thank you, Boyd. Do you mind looking after him for the rest of the week? If it’s too difficult I can find someone else.”

“I don’t mind, sir.”

Derek sits down, sighing because he’s finally off his feet. “I want him to like it here.”

Boyd smiles knowingly.

“What did you think of him?” Derek asks. He thinks Boyd will give him an honest answer, something that isn’t tinted by a dislike for Stiles’ status.

“He seemed distracted, but his guardian is not well.” Boyd pauses. “He kept asking about you.”

Derek’s eyes widen. “Really?” he breathes, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden. The night has been long and he needs sleep, but now he knows that Stiles cares enough to ask about him.

Boyd raises an eyebrow. “He mostly wanted to know what _I_ thought of you.”

Derek freezes. “I don’t – may I ask what you said?”

Boyd smiles. “You have nothing to worry about, sir.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“And I did like him, sir. He was not rude to me.”

Derek smiles. He falls back onto his pillows and closes his eyes. He thinks he dreams of Stiles in his arms, dancing the two dances they missed out on.

**

Derek’s eyes keep travelling to the door at breakfast the next morning. Laura giggles next to him, eyes tired but bright, and she gives him a cheeky smile.

“He will be here soon,” Laura says. “I think he has stopped by Lady Burton’s room.”

“Oh. Right.” Derek says. He almost forgot about the reason for Stiles’ stay altogether, and he feels a little ashamed.

Then one of the servants opens the doors and Stiles steps through. Derek immediately stands, chair scraping along the floor.  Stiles looks at him, surprised. It’s not required for Derek to stand, not at all.

“Good morning,” he says awkwardly.

Stiles smiles at him, small. “Thank you for having me here, Lord Hale.” He turns to Derek’s sister. “Lady Laura.”

She waves her hand. “It is no problem at all, Stiles. Now I must go, enjoy your breakfast!”

She takes one bite of her breakfast before she goes. Derek swallows. He knows Laura is only leaving to give him and Stiles a little privacy, and from the way Stiles huffs it shows that her intentions are quite transparent.

Derek sits back down. “My sister was just asking after Lady Burton. How is she?”

“Awake,” says Stiles. “She has not been well for some time.”

“Oh,” Derek says. “I’m sorry.”

Stiles takes the seat opposite him. He’s wearing clothes that almost fit him, instead of that awful formal wear. Derek notices for the first time that Stiles’ shoulders are rather broad.

Stiles reaches for a piece of toast, eating quietly. Derek can’t stop looking at him, hardly believing that he’s here. It seems too good to be true.

“Um,” says Stiles, clearing his throat. He keeps his head dipped down. “Your sister is very lovely.”

Derek sits straighter, pleased. He wants desperately for the two of them to like each other. He’s not sure what Laura’s true feelings towards Stiles are, her approval only there because Derek likes him. Hopefully by the end of the week that might change.

“She’s all I have left,” Derek says quietly. Stiles’ eyes flick up to him.

“I am surprised she seems to like me,” Stiles admits, taking a sip of his water. “I thought your only family would be trying to change your mind about me.”

“Laura is not like that.”

Stiles takes a bite of his toast. A little jam escapes the corner of his mouth, and Derek has trouble not staring at it. “I could have sworn you hit your head and lost all rational thought just before you saw me.”

“I would have recovered by now,” Derek points out.

Stiles grins up at him, almost shy. “One would hope so. But your sister,” he clears his throat, “If she doesn’t _object_ , then maybe you are not so crazy after all.”

Derek looks at his empty plate, feeling a smile start on his face. He likes that Stiles is acknowledging whatever it is between them. It makes him feel like his efforts aren’t for nothing.

“Maybe! I said maybe.” Stiles says quickly. “I still think that you’re crazy.”

“Probably,” Derek teases.

Stiles laughs. The sound is over too soon, but it still happened. Derek loves how different Stiles is here. There’s no one but them, no wandering eyes or hushed comments. Just breakfast and small smiles.

Derek has already finished his food and he has a few meetings today, but he waits for Stiles to eat. He seems hungry, and he gets jam on his fingers, licking them clean before he looks up at Derek and blushes.

“Sorry!”

Derek’s neck feels hot. “It’s fine.”

There’s a pause and it looks like Stiles might laugh – his eyes shining with embarrassment – but then the door opens. Two maids walk into the room and the mood shifts completely. Stiles stills, staring down at his food, looking like he’s bracing himself for something.

“I’m sorry, sir,” one of them says, glancing at Stiles, her words too slow as she stares at him. “We thought you’d be finished by now.”

“I’m done,” Stiles says, pushing his chair back.

Derek looks at the food still on his plate. “Are you sure?”

Stiles glares at him. “Yes.”

“Okay,” Derek says. “I’ll be in the library for the rest of the morning. Let me know if you need anything, or ask any of the staff. Laura will be around as well.”

Stiles nods, following Derek out of the room. As soon as they’re in the hallway they hear the two maids giggle, voices hushed, and then the door closes.

Derek stares awkwardly at Stiles, not sure what to say. Derek heard the words _poor_ and _orphan_ and _ugly,_ and he honestly didn’t think that his servants would say things like that, not when Stiles could still hear them.

He opens his mouth to apologize, but Stiles shakes his head.

“It’s not so bad,” he says with a wry smile.

“Stiles, you –” Derek starts. _You shouldn’t have to deal with this; you shouldn’t have to hear those things._

“Lord Hale,” Stiles says, sighing. “There’s nothing you can do.”

Derek frowns, but Stiles disappears around a corner before he can say anything. Derek wants to follow him, but the library is in the opposite direction and Derek is late for his meetings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the chapter <3 Thank you for waiting, my exams are done and I am exhausted. The next chapter should be here soon though :) :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to [pale-silver-comb](http://pale-silver-comb.tumblr.com) <3

Derek cannot find Boyd, and the only other servant he feels vaguely comfortable talking to is Miss Reyes. Once his meetings are over, he makes his way down to the kitchens. Miss Reyes is kneading some dough, flour on her face.

“Lord Hale!” she says, standing up straight. Her smile seems genuine and Derek relaxes.

He takes a step closer, grateful there’s no one else in the kitchen. “Good morning, Miss Reyes.”

“It’s no longer morning, sir.”

Derek smiles. “I suppose it’s not.”

“How can I help you?” she asks.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Lady Burton and her ward are staying with us for the week –”

Miss Reyes laughs, brushing a loose curl behind her hair. She wipes her hands on her apron before she speaks. “Of course I have heard.”

Derek takes a deep breath. This is awkward for him, asking this, especially when he thinks Stiles won’t appreciate it. But Derek thinks it needs to be done. He needs to make sure his staff treats Stiles well. “If the others say anything unfriendly, if you hear any of the maids or –”

Miss Reyes smirks. “I can put them in their place?”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “I do not think they’ll appreciate that.”

She starts to roll her eyes before realizing it’s not a very ladylike thing to do. “Do not worry, sir. I know what you mean. I’ll try and make sure our guests are treated well.”

“Thank you,” Derek says.

“Though,” Miss Reyes says. “I am only a kitchen maid.”

Derek sighs. “I understand.”

Miss Reyes looks towards the door. When she sees no one coming she leans forward, speaking quietly over the table between them. “Would you like to try one of the pastries that are cooking?”

Derek opens his mouth, unsure. “Only if I am allowed.”

Miss Reyes laughs. “You are the Lord of this house, sir. You can do anything. But, best not to tell Mrs. Richards that you ate one.”

“Agreed,” Derek says seriously, and Miss Reyes looks delighted.

**

When Derek returns to the library he sees Stiles already there, humming to himself as he stares at the many titles on the shelves. Derek stands quietly by the door, not wanting to announce his presence just yet because Stiles seems calm, almost content.

“You may borrow one if you wish,” Derek finally says, and Stiles jumps.

“Oh. Lord Hale.”

Derek walks in, the door closing behind him with a soft click. They are truly alone here and it makes Derek’s heart tick and his hands sweaty. He stops in front of Stiles, eyes flitting over his face.

“I wouldn’t know which one to read,” Stiles says. He lifts a hand, and a long finger trails over one of the book’s spine. “There are so many to choose from.”

“I don’t mind if you take more than one,” Derek says.

Stiles turns to him, a pleased smile on his face. “Are you sure? I am a rather slow reader. I may have to take them home with me.”

Derek licks his lips. He thinks that they’re standing almost too close, but he can’t bring himself to move away. “Then you will have an excuse to come back here and return them.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, doing little to hide it from Derek. But he takes two of the books off the shelf, clutching them to his chest like he’s afraid he may drop them.

“Thank you for writing back to me,” Derek says to him.

“I wasn’t going to, you know,” Stiles says lightly. He turns away from Derek and sits down on one of the sofas, gazing around the library. It’s a nice room, with deep red curtains by the windows, the carpet full of intricate patterns. It’s Derek’s favorite place to be and he’s glad Stiles is here with him.

“What made you change your mind?” Derek asks, sitting opposite him.

Stiles looks delighted at the question, and he grins slightly. “I thought you might be very disappointed otherwise.”

“Yes,” Derek says, feeling brave enough to admit it, even though he thinks Stiles is teasing him.

Stiles shakes his head, something flickering over his face. “You surprise me, Lord Hale.”

“Why?” he blushes. “I am very easy to read. My sister tells me so all the time.”

Stiles smirks. “You _are_ easy to read. Easier to read than the books I have here.”

“And you are not,” Derek says.

“That is strange,” Stiles says. He sits on the edge of the sofa, his long legs taking up the space in front of him. Derek sees a spark in his eyes, a spark that often comes and goes. “There is not much to me.”

“I disagree. I am trying my best to figure you out.”

“Well,” says Stiles. “I think you need to be reminded about a few things.”

Derek feels like he knows what is coming. He gives Stiles flat look.

“I am poor,” Stiles says, sighing dramatically.

“Yes.”

“I have no parents.”

“Neither do I.”

Stiles’ nostrils flare. “That is different.”

“Is it?” Derek shoots back. “We have both suffered because of it, perhaps you more than me, but we both know loss, Stiles. It is simply sadder that you lost your parents so young.”

“Your parents were good people. My parents may have been thieves,” Stiles says, and it seems like he’s always trying to argue, always trying to make Derek think that he’s worthless. Derek doesn’t understand it.

“Maybe.”

“Or, or murderers,” Stiles says, eyes sharp and glowing. “What would that make me, Lord Hale? Surely something worse than just an orphan.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “I think you are leaving out quite a few possibilities. Your parents may have been King and Queen of a foreign land.”

There’s a beat of silence and Stiles looks like he might laugh. Derek waits for it eagerly, but it never comes, and instead he hears Stiles sigh.

“That only happens in stories, Lord Hale.”

Derek smiles at him, noticing the sadness in Stiles’ eyes.

“But it is nice to pretend sometimes,” Stiles says.

“It is,” Derek says.

Stiles looks at him then, like he really doesn’t understand Derek at all. Derek’s eyes fall to the floor, embarrassed, because he’s not sure what Stiles sees, not sure if he sees the handsome Lord or the lonely man who cares too much.

“I – I have some letters to write,” Derek tells him.

“To your other suitors?” Stiles says, trying to sound playful.

“No,” Derek huffs, and he thinks Stiles looks relieved that there’s no one else, that Stiles is the only person Derek has noticed. “You’re welcome to stay here while I write them.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, opening one his books. His fingers run across one of the pages and Derek has to make himself stand and return to his desk. He feels Stiles glancing at him for the rest of the afternoon, and Derek is barely able to concentrate.

**

The week passes by and Derek is always eager to start the day, looking forward to seeing Stiles’ face again. They spend breakfast and dinner together, Laura sitting there quietly and letting them talk. Whenever Derek catches her eye she sends a soft, encouraging look.

Derek’s chest warms.

Stiles is fun to talk to. When he forgets where he is, who he’s talking to, his eyes are bright and his expression is lively. Derek had forgotten what it was like to enjoy the company of others.

Stiles sits in the library with him while he works. An hour or so later he’s always spread out on the sofa, knees parted and staring at his book with a serious expression on his face. Derek thinks it’s a little improper, the way he sits, but Stiles doesn’t seem to realize what he’s doing and Derek can’t bring himself to care. He looks comfortable.

“Are you enjoying your book?” Derek asks, when he’s completely bored of his work. He’s never gotten so little done in an hour before.

Stiles looks at him, sitting up properly. “I am not very far through,” he says carefully, snapping the book shut.

“Maybe you need a break,” Derek says. “We could take a walk outside.”

Stiles perks up. “First I – I would like to see the view on the balcony. You know, now that the sun is up. You _did_ say that it was something special.”

Derek smiles. “Whatever you would like,” he says.

He thinks he sees Stiles blush, but Derek is already putting away his notes and papers. They walk side by side until they reach the balcony, and now, now they can see the bright green leaves on the trees and the lawn that stretches on and on. The sky is a clear blue, nicer than it’s been all week.

“I like it,” Stiles announces.

“You do?”

“Yes,” Stiles says, “Though I think you were a little too boastful the night of the ball.”

“Was I now?” Derek says, facing him. The wind is playing with Stiles’ hair.

“Just a little,” Stiles says, voice light.

“It is better in the spring,” Derek tells him.

“Of course it is,” Stiles grins. He faces Derek and neither of them seems to care about the view. Derek wants this moment to last forever, but Lady Burton is getting better and the week is almost over. Stiles will have to return home.

“When will I see you again?” Derek says.

Stiles licks his lips. “I do not know.”

“I will have to ask Laura what balls will be held soon.”

Stiles takes a step closer, sighing. “I cannot attend without a chaperone,” he says. “And I do not think Lady Burton is well enough for another ball.”

Derek is hit with disappointment. He turns back towards the view of the gardens, not knowing what to say. He wonders if a direct invitation for Stiles to stay here is too forward, if it would be considered strange to have him here for no reason other than to have him here.

But Derek doesn’t even know if Stiles would say yes to that. He has been hot and cold all week. One moment he looks flushed and pleased when Derek says something, anything, and then he looks confused and unsure and almost mad. Derek doesn’t know what to do.

“Lord Hale,” Stiles says softly. “Do you really want to see me again?”

Derek pauses. Then he nods.

“Then I am sure you will think of something,” Stiles says. “You have been lucky so far.”

Derek snorts. “You consider Lady Burton falling ill lucky?”

Stiles huffs. “Not when you put it like that! You make me sound like, like I am very horrid.”

He turns. “You are anything but.”

Stiles looks at the ground, his fingers tangled together in front of him. He opens and closes his mouth, and something tells Derek that Stiles has never heard that before, from anyone.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “But –”

“Don’t,” Derek says. He takes a step closer to Stiles, holding his breath. “There’s no need to disagree with me.”

Stiles bites his lip, and Derek wants to reach out and cup his face. He wants to drag his thumb across Stiles’ lip and he’s surprised by himself. Derek has never wanted to do something like that before.

“Most people would,” Stiles says.

“They don’t matter,” Derek says.

Stiles looks down. “I wish I could afford to think that way.”

“What way?” Derek says, frowning.

Stiles sighs. “Never mind, Lord Hale. I should go visit Lady Burton again, but I will see you at dinner. Perhaps tomorrow we can take a walk through the gardens? The morning after I will be going home.”

“I – okay. I would like that.”

He gives Derek a cheeky look, taking a step back. “I thought you might.”

“I told you I am easy to read,” Derek says, and Stiles shakes his head, a smile returning to his face. He leaves Derek standing there, wishing that the week didn’t have to end and wondering if Stiles feels the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed!! <3
> 
> I'm personally looking forward to the next two chapters! They will be my favourite ones so far. You know, once they're written. They're both halfway done, and this weekend I will actually have time to write :) :) It's crazy.
> 
> Also, you guys really do need to thank [pale-silver-comb](http://pale-silver-comb.tumblr.com) because they're keeping me excited for this fic - as well as all your lovely comments, of course. I love reading them. Thank you <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to pale-silver-comb who has been giving me so many ideas!! <3

Derek is held up all morning, wishing he was with Stiles as the seconds tick by. Stiles is going home tomorrow but Derek already misses having him here, and he can’t help but think this is the end. There will be no more balls, no more precious afternoons spent together in the library.

Derek hopes that they will still be able to send each other letters.

He’s late for their walk together and Derek regrets not being able to spend the whole day with Stiles. It’s all he wants, and now he can’t seem to find Stiles anywhere. He runs into Miss Blake in the hallway trying to look for him.

“Have you seen him?” Derek asks, a little breathless.

Miss Blake stares at him blankly, a pile of linen in her arms.

“Stiles. Have you seen him?”

“No, sir.” She pauses. “Well, yes. I did see him. He was talking about how he could not wait to get home.

Derek looks at her, his chest going hollow. He thought this week was going well. “He did?”

Miss Blake sighs. “I do not think he likes it here.”

“I – uh, thank you Miss Blake.” He wonders if his disappointment shines through. “Do you know where he went?”

She grits her teeth together. “I think he went outside, sir.”

Derek has already forgotten Miss Blake as he rushes past, but her words have set him on edge. Derek needs some hint, some sign that says Stiles wants to stay here longer.

He’s only at the beginning of the garden path when Derek finally sees him. Derek slows down to a walk, his throat dry and his neck hot. He hardly remembers ever being so nervous.

“Stiles,” he calls out.

Stiles looks up, a smile slowly starting out on his lips. He places his hands behind his back and waits for Derek to catch up with him.

“I thought you had forgotten about me,” Stiles says.

Derek shakes his head. “No,” he says, swallowing. “No.”

Stiles looks at him carefully. “You are lucky I didn’t get very far, then,” Stiles says. Derek relaxes. He sees that almost happy look in Stiles’ eye that he wishes would never go away.

They start down the path together, their shoulders almost touching as they walk. The leaves cover them from above, patches of sunlight hitting their faces. It’s quiet and they’re alone, and Derek feels like anything could happen.

“Do you walk here often?” Stiles asks him.

“I try to,” Derek says.

“I prefer it out here. It’s nice to be alone sometimes, and I like your library but anyone can bother you there.” Stiles lets out a breath. “And I am a slow reader.”

Derek smiles at him. “I meant it when I said you could take some books home with you.”

Stiles stops walking, turning to face him.

“Thank you,” Stiles says. “I do like them, but nothing is better than being outside. I even like it in the rain sometimes.” His cheeks turn pink. “I like how the sky opens up and everyone hides inside except me. I can yell out and say what I want and sometimes the sky answers back.”

Stiles looks like he’s said too much. Derek can imagine the raindrops sliding down his face and clinging to his eyelashes.

“And then I feel a little bit free,” Stiles says quietly. “You must think that is a strange thing to do.”

“I – I think,” Derek says, and for some reason affection floods his chest, “That you might fall ill if you do that.”

Stiles’ face drops. “Yes. I might.”

“I mean,” Derek says quickly, starting to walk again. He’s grateful when Stiles keeps pace beside him. “I mean that I wish I could be so brave.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow. “It is only the weather, Lord Hale.”

Derek glances at him, feeling stupid. “Yes. You’re right.”

They keep walking and Derek feels as if he has ruined everything. But Stiles still stands close, their hands nearly brushing each other as they walk. Derek wants to dance with him again; wants to take Stiles’ hand more firmly and never let it go.

“Are you close with Lady Burton?” Derek finally says.

“No,” says Stiles, without hesitation. “She took me in when I was six years old. I had been living in an orphanage previously, and before she lost her wealth she donated money there. For some reason she had taken to me, but she was already old then.”

“That is no way to talk about a lady,” Derek says, teasing.

Stiles rolls his eyes, but then his lips turn down. “She hasn’t been in her right mind for a long time now. Most people find her an inconvenience.” Stiles pauses. “I am grateful she took me in but she hasn’t really been able to afford me and...”

He doesn’t go on.

“You must tell me about yourself now,” Stiles says. “I have bored you enough this week.”

“You have not bored me.”

“If you say so,” Stiles says, slowing down his walk. It’s almost like he doesn’t want to reach the end of the path. “Now tell me about yourself, Lord Hale. You have not said much all week.”

Derek smiles at him. “That’s because there is not much to know.”

“Then let me guess?” Stiles asks, voice turning playful. “You grew up here?”

“Yes.”

“You now look after the estate.”

“You already knew that,” Derek tells him.

Stiles hums. Out here his body seems more fluid, his limbs moving more freely. Derek can see why he had wanted to dance. “You love your sister very much.”

Derek nods.

“Your servants like you.”

“I hope so,” Derek says, scratching his cheek.

 Stiles smirks. “You have no idea how to court someone.”

Derek stills. His hands have gone sweaty and Stiles looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

“If you really feel that way then you should give me some tips,” Derek says, glaring.

Stiles shakes his head, giggling a little. “I do not want to encourage you.”

“Why not?” Derek frowns.

Stiles shrugs, putting his hands behind his back. Derek does not understand him. He acts like he wants something, like he wants Derek to continue this, but then he goes and says things like that.

“Were the letters okay?” Derek demands.

Stiles pauses. “Yes.”

“The dances?”

“I would much rather dance with you when no one is looking,” Stiles says honestly. “But that would be improper.”

Derek’s cheeks go red. He honestly doesn’t know if Stiles cares about things like propriety.

Stiles steps up to him. “Thank you for this week,” he whispers. Stiles’ hands are still behind his back, but they’re chest to chest. Stiles glances at Derek’s lips. “I enjoyed myself more than I thought I would.”

“You should stay longer,” Derek tells him. His voice has gone hoarse.

Stiles’ smile is small. “I don’t think you understand, Lord Hale. Whatever this is... I can’t have it. It’s a dream. You cannot have me, really. I have nothing to offer you.”

Derek’s nostrils flare. He wonders why Stiles thinks so little of himself.

“It’s a nice idea,” Stiles says. “The poor orphan and the dashing Lord. But that’s all it is. An idea.”

“Stiles.”

“I am not your equal, Lord Hale. You will soon realize that this isn’t what you want,” Stiles says, and he sounds so sure. He sounds like his destiny has already been set for him. It makes Derek’s heart break.

He doesn’t know what to say; distracted by Stiles’ warm gaze. Derek closes his eyes, not able make sense of what Stiles is saying. He doesn’t understand why this match is so impossible for Stiles. Perhaps he does not really want it.

He hears Stiles step away, and Derek only opens his eyes when he’s gone.

**

Derek finishes the walk alone. His mind is cluttered and confused, and he’s desperate for Stiles to know that his feelings are genuine. It does not matter if Derek is a Lord and Stiles is an orphan. It makes no difference to him.

He hates that Stiles is convinced that they can’t be together, that this is a fleeting attraction and that Derek will soon grow bored. If anything Derek has become more and more enamoured this past week.

It’s then that he makes his decision. It’s then that Derek realizes what he really wants.

Derek finds his sister sitting in the library. He needs to talk to her; he needs to know what she thinks about all of this.

“May I speak to you?” Derek asks, his eyebrows knitted together. He’s hovering at the edge of the room and Laura puts down her tea, looking immediately concerned. She asks the servants to leave.

They close the door behind them and Derek gives his sister a pleading look. He feels so hopeless. Stiles is leaving tomorrow and with Lady Burton as ill as she is, Derek may never see him again. Stiles may never attend another ball. This beautiful, wonderful man is going to slip out of Derek’s grasp.

“I am going to ask him to marry me,” Derek tells her.

Laura’s eyes widen.

“Tonight, after dinner.”

She stands up. “Derek, have you gone insane?”

Derek starts pacing the room. He rubs his hands over his face, but he cannot see any other option. If Derek proposes then Stiles will know exactly how he feels. Derek is useless at courtship, yes, but all he wants is Stiles to be happy with him.

“Maybe, I don’t know, Laura.”

“Here, have a drink,” she says, pointing to the whisky.

Derek scrunches his face up in confusion. “Laura – I don’t need a _drink_. I am trying to tell you that I want to marry Stiles. I want to marry him.”

Laura purses her lips. “You obviously need something to calm you down. Then we’re going to talk about this without your judgement being clouded by your feelings.”

Derek glares at her, his heart pounding as he goes and pours himself a glass. He has never liked whisky, but when it burns its way down his throat he feels a little better. More sure of himself. He’s going to ask Stiles to marry him.

“Derek, you have barely known him three months,” Laura says, settling back down on the sofa.

“I know.”

“And this is the first week you have really ever talked to him.”

“I know.”

She sighs. “I think this is all going too fast, Derek.”

Derek sits next to her. He puts his glass down and takes Laura’s hands in his, trying to look as sincere as he possibly can.

“I care about him very much,” Derek says. “He does not believe me. I need – I need to show him that I do. That I want him.”

Laura smiles, but her eyes looked pained. “Derek...”

“I do not care that he has no money, Laura. I do not care what people will say about our engagement.”

“I know,” Laura says, squeezing his hands. “I know. That is not why I am saying this. I’m just not sure you know him well enough to know you will be happy for the rest of your lives together.”

Derek breathes in. “I am willing to risk it.”

Laura sighs. “Please wait until the morning to ask him,” she says. “Go to sleep and think about it. Then you have my blessing.”

Derek’s face breaks out into a smile. He wraps Laura up in a hug, something they haven’t done since they were children. It’s nice to hold her, and Derek is excited that she’ll hopefully have another member in her family soon.

“Thank you,” Derek says.

“I hope you are making the right choice, Derek,” Laura says.

“I am. I am.”

At dinner Stiles looks at him strangely, and Derek’s heart is restless. When he goes to bed that night he wishes that he still had his father’s wedding ring, but it had been stolen the night he died. Derek doesn’t need it for a proposal. He just needs Stiles to know that he can have a family again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and for all your lovely comments :) :)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I hope you're all looking forward to the next one!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to pale-silver-comb!! <3

Derek walks down to breakfast with slow, sure steps. He’s barely slept, wishing so badly for something good to happen when he asks his question. His doubts have been pushed aside by his heart, but he still wonders what Stiles will say. It’s too hard to know.

“Derek –” Laura says, as soon as he enters the room. Stiles is not there yet.

“I have not changed my mind,” he says, looking her in the eye.

Laura lets out a breath. “I know,” she says. “I didn’t think you would.”

Derek smiles at her, small. He sits down and waits for Stiles to arrive before touching his food, his heart starting to flutter madly in his chest. Derek has no idea what the morning will bring.

Laura places a hand over his own. “It will be alright, Derek.”

Derek doesn’t know how to answer her.

He almost startles when the door opens, because suddenly everything is very real. Stiles’ brown eyes look warm, and his skin is lovely. Derek hopes beyond anything that this isn’t the last time they share a meal together.

“Good morning,” Derek says, too quickly.

Stiles slowly meets his gaze. He greets them both, smiling a little, but he looks like he remembers their conversation yesterday, the two of them standing close as Stiles said that a match between them was impossible.

“I am going home today,” Stiles says carefully.

Derek swallows. “I know. I have not forgotten.”

Stiles bites his lip, and maybe he thinks that Derek will forget him one day. “Thank you both for having me here.”

Laura smiles. “We hope to see you here again.”

Stiles nods but he doesn’t look very hopeful himself. He sits and barely touches his food, glancing up at Derek and looking at him like they’ll never see each other again. It leaves Derek frustrated, and he’s one step away from blurting out a proposal right now.

He needs Stiles to know how he feels, and Derek can see it, can see them happy together.

“Stiles?”

“Yes, Lord Hale?”

Derek’s throat is dry. He knows what he wants, knows he never wants Stiles to leave, but he doesn’t know how to say it. Laura catches his eye, and she smiles encouragingly.

“May I speak to you before you leave?”

Stiles frowns. “Now?”

Derek tries to smile. “Whenever you are ready. You have yet to eat.”

“Now is fine,” he says, and Derek gets to his feet. He feels his hands shaking; his whole body alight with nerves. Stiles blinks fast and rises to follow him.

The servants are waiting in the hallway, quiet as the two of them walk past. They have learnt by now that Derek wants Stiles here, that Derek does not hold the same opinions as others do about Stiles’ status.

Derek can feel Stiles tense behind him, not even relaxing as they enter the open air and leave everyone behind. There is a small lake at the edge of Derek’s home, hidden by trees on one side and always abundant with fish. He leads Stiles there, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Are you going to say goodbye to me?” Stiles blurts out.

Derek swallows and looks him in the eye. “I don’t ever want to say goodbye to you.”

Stiles appears panicked for a moment, eyes scanning the area around them. He takes a step back and Derek doesn’t know what to do, he hasn’t even _begun_ yet.

“I have not yet gathered all my belongings,” Stiles says quickly.

“I do not want to take up your time if you are not willing to give it,” Derek tells him, making sure to keep his distance. Stiles’ cheeks are flushed and he doesn’t look happy, he doesn’t look like he wants to cherish one of their last moments together.

“I may go?” he says, so quietly that Derek barely hears him.

“If you wish.”

Stiles lets out a breath. “I don’t – I don’t understand, why did you bring me out here if you are just going to let me go?”

Derek has no idea what Stiles is thinking right now. He opens and closes his mouth, trying to search for the right words, trying to make everything alright again. Things had been so wonderful this past week, and he wonders why Stiles looks so uncomfortable now.

“Why – why did you follow me if you did not want to come?” Derek asks, lips settled in a frown.

Stiles looks at the ground. “I am sorry,” he finally says. “Please. Tell me what you wanted to.”

Derek doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to make Stiles’ discomfort worse, and surely offering marriage to him will do that.

Before him, Stiles kicks at the ground. “I am sorry – I did not mean to act like that.” He puts his hands behind his back, and it seems oddly formal when Derek wants to confess his feelings. “It’s just that we are alone, and I do not know what you want from me.”

“I –”

“We will never see each other again, Lord Hale. And I thought – it was unfair to, you have been nothing but kind –” he clenches his teeth together before speaking, “But I thought you wanted what I offered you the night we met.”

Stiles’ face is red with shame, and silence hangs between them. Derek’s lips part with shock, his eyes wide and his own cheeks colored with embarrassment.

“Stiles,” he says softly.

“Yes?”

“I brought you outside because you seemed to like it out here,” Derek says. “We can go back to the house. Then I would still like to speak with you if you will let me.”

Stiles nods before he looks up, eyes pleading. “You can speak to me here. But please, do not say goodbye. I do not think I can handle it.”

Derek’s hands quiver by his sides. “Stiles,” he says.

Stiles smiles a little, and he even takes a step closer, like he’s trusting Derek here.

“That was why I wanted to speak with you,” Derek asks. “I never want to have to forget you, and, and I have tried so hard to think about how we may see each other again.”

“You have?” Stiles whispers.

“Yes. I admire you greatly, Stiles,” he says. Derek closes his eyes, and even though the ground is grassy and muddy he falls to one knee. “I would like it very much if I got to wake up and see you every day. Will you – will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Derek hears the whip of the wind and the sound of a few birds resting on the lake. It’s peaceful, calm, but he has not heard Stiles’ answer. It takes a moment for Derek to find the courage to look at him.

Stiles’ eyes are wide, his mouth dropped open. He no longer looks upset or unnerved, but instead he looks completely bewildered.

“Stiles,” Derek says hoarsely. “Please answer me.”

“You’re serious.”

Derek stares up at him. “Of course I am.”

A complicated set of emotions pass over Stiles’ face, and Derek doesn’t understand any of them. He waits, his trousers getting damp and his pulse going too fast. He thinks maybe that he’s made a fool of himself. Stiles doesn’t want him, only indulged him for those few dances and it didn’t really mean anything and –

“Stand up.”

“Stiles?” Derek says, stilling. Now that Stiles has mentioned it already, it feels all too much like the night they met, except that Derek is the one on his knees. Stiles is still the one who doesn’t want to meet his eyes.

Derek awkwardly gets to his feet. He almost stumbles, and his heart feels fragile. He wishes Stiles’ voice was less harsh if he was going to reject Derek.

“I thought you were aware of my intentions,” Derek says quietly.

“I was not sure.”

Derek rolls his eyes. He can’t help it. He’s been so obvious that he suspects even the servants know how he feels.

“You’re not, you’re not doing this with me until you find someone better?”

“No,” Derek whispers. “You are better than any other person I have ever met.”

Stiles finally looks at him, nostrils flaring. His eyes are sharp, beautiful. Derek honestly thought that Stiles would let him down gently.

“Your clothes are dirty,” Stiles says, gesturing to the mud stains on his knees.

Derek says nothing.

“You don’t love me.”

“I could,” Derek whispers.

“We barely know each other!”

“I hate attending balls,” Derek says. “I hate dancing. I enjoyed those two things with you more than I can say. It’s never been a priority of mine to get married, Stiles. But I do not want to lose this chance with you. Please.”

Stiles sighs, rubbing his face. “Derek,” he says, voice flat. It is maybe the first time he has used Derek’s name. “I’d be stupid to say no to you.”

“What?”

“I have nothing! Nothing at all. Lady Burton is dying and I will be left without anything to my name. Whatever is left of her belongings is going to some nephew of hers that I have never met,” Stiles says.

“I do not understand.”

Stiles laughs. “Of course you don’t.” He takes a step forward and Derek stands up straighter, words locked in his throat. “I don’t have a choice. If I want any sort of security, I must accept your offer.”

Derek exhales, looking at his feet. He’s trying to make sense of what Stiles is saying.

“I’d only be marrying you for your money, Derek,” Stiles whispers. Their gazes meet and Stiles doesn’t look angry or frustrated anymore. His eyes are wide, scanning Derek’s face and looking for answers.

Derek reaches for one of Stiles’ hands, his touch gentle.

“I want you to be happy with me,” Derek says. “But I wish for you to be safe and warm, and I could give that to you. I have no wish to trap you into a marriage you do not want to be in and I know we have not known each other long. But I believe you like me, at least a little.”

Stiles splutters, stepping away. Derek’s hand falls.

“What makes you think I like you?” Stiles asks.

Derek smirks. “I can think of a few reasons.” But then his voice sobers. “Stiles, if you accept me, you do not have to... please me, if you do not want to.”

Stiles’ cheeks grow even darker, but at the same time he looks a little relieved.

“You do not even have to talk to me, but I would like it very much if you did.”

“That sounds stupid.”

Derek grins. “Maybe.”

Stiles sighs. “I still do not have a choice, Derek.”

“If – if you had all the money in the world,” Derek says, trying not to sound hopeful. “Would you marry me?”

“It is very hard for me to imagine that,” Stiles says, voice brimming with honesty. “So I do not know.”

Derek doesn’t know what else he can say. He waits there for what seems like a long time, and now he cannot tell if Stiles really wants to be with him. He wishes desperately that it’s true anyway.

Stiles smiles weakly at him. “You know my answer, Lord Hale. I hope you can deal with what other people will say about you if you marry me.”

“They’re not a problem for me,” Derek says.

Stiles shrugs. His skin looks bright in the morning light, but his eyes have lost that warm glow. Derek wishes this moment were a little happier but it seems very bittersweet.

“Stiles?” Derek asks.

“Yes?”

Derek wipes his sweaty hands against his sides. “If you marry me, my only request is that you let Laura think that we’re happy.”

“I can do that,” Stiles says quietly. Derek smiles gratefully at him. “We had better start now.”

Derek nods in return and they make their way back to the house in silence. He’s not sure what is going to happen, not at all, but Derek vows to himself that he will try his best to make Stiles’ life here happy. He will try his best to make Stiles feel like he’s here because he wants to be, not because he has to.

Laura is waiting for them in the library, and Derek doesn’t know how to act. Her eyes are wide as she looks between them, and then Stiles’ face breaks out into a smile. Derek’s heart breaks at how genuine it looks.

“Oh, thank God,” she says, her eyes going wet. She rushes to Stiles. “I am so happy you accepted my brother, Stiles. I did not realize how much _I_ wanted it until you both left the room together. Derek – I have never seen him this way before, and that is all you. Thank you.”

Stiles looks taken aback, and Laura is clutching at his hands.

“I am being selfish, too,” she says. “Our family seems so small now, and here you are, about to join it. I have wanted that for a long time.”

Derek’s heart feels warm for the first time today. He feels close to tears himself and Stiles looks back at him, not sure what to do.

Laura blushes, taking a step back. “I know you must still go home with Lady Burton. I would love to start organizing your wedding though, is that alright with you?”

Stiles slowly nods and Laura beams.

Derek allows himself to smile too, because he is happy. He will have Stiles here and he will do his best to be a devoted husband. Hopefully Stiles will come to trust that their marriage will be something honest and good.

Stiles goes upstairs after sending Derek a nervous smile.

Laura turns to him. “I will not make you wait very long, Derek. I will only need a month to organize a wedding.”

“Thank you,” Derek says tenderly. He’s never seen his sister smile so wide.

Half an hour later Stiles and Lady Burton come down to leave. Lady Burton looks pale, but she is on her own two feet, gripping Stiles’ arm.

She looks at up at Derek, and he realizes that he’s never heard her speak before. “Is it true?” Lady Burton says. “You asked him to marry you?”

Derek wonders if he should have asked her permission, and his eyes flit nervously between the two of them. Stiles is looking at his feet.

“Yes.”

“Thank you then, Lord Hale,” Lady Burton says. Stiles looks pleasantly surprised by her side, like he didn’t know she cared about his wellbeing. Derek makes another promise to himself to let Stiles know that he’s something good, something precious.

“Goodbye,” Stiles whispers a few minutes later. “I promise to write to you.”

“I look forward to it,” Derek says, and he thinks, despite Stiles’ words this morning, that they both want this. Derek doesn’t want to convince himself otherwise.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you all enjoy the proposal?? I had fun writing it!!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and all your wonderful comments <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to pale-silver-comb <3

Derek wakes to soft sunlight, unable to keep the smile from his face. He is warmed by thought that even though Stiles is gone, he will come back. At the end of the month they will be married.

Derek sighs. His happiness is tainted with the worry that Stiles does not really want a life with him. It creates an ache in his heart, impossible to soothe now that Stiles is not here. He has no way of knowing what will happen in the next few weeks, months, years.

The door opens. “Good morning, sir.”

“Boyd,” Derek says, sitting up. His servant is looking at him carefully, and Derek cannot help but share what has happened. “Stiles is gone.”

“Yes.”

Derek takes a breath in. “I – I hope you liked having him here. I would like you to know before we tell the other servants that Stiles and I are to be married.”

Boyd’s eyes widen. “Congratulations, sir.”

Derek sends him a shy smile. “Thank you.”

He wonders if he should tell Boyd that he’s not sure about Stiles’ true feelings, that he’s not sure if Stiles would marry him without his title or money. He’s horrified that Stiles thought Derek was simply going to use him again, use him and then forget about him.

Stiles has thought the worst of him, then, even if it was for a moment. How could he not? Derek remembers Stiles falling to his knees the first time they met, talking of the others who have led him behind closed doors.

Derek is determined not to be like those men, to help Stiles understand his true intentions. But Derek is a little afraid of their agreement. He doesn’t know how to show Stiles how much he wants to give.

Derek gets dressed for breakfast, lost in his own thoughts. He wonders what it is like to be married. He wonders if Stiles will think of this place as his home. He wonders if Stiles will one day fall in love with him.

“It is not the most obvious match,” Boyd finally says. Derek looks at him through the mirror. His servant’s face is thoughtful. “But I think your temperaments will suit each other.”

“Do you really think so?” Derek asks.

“Yes, sir. It is not an obvious match, but I think it is a good one.”

That is all Derek needs to hear. He makes his way down to breakfast and sees Laura, responding to her bright smile with one of his own. He knows his marriage with Stiles is not what his sister thinks it will be, but Derek cannot help but pretend everything is fine.

It is too easy to.

“I am glad you have given me something to do with my time,” Laura says. “It is always nice to have something to celebrate.”

“We have just finished celebrating a ball,” Derek points out.

“And it went very well, didn’t it?” she says, and Derek cannot help but agree. He’s so very grateful for his sister’s efforts because otherwise Stiles might never have come, and they might have never had their week together.

They eat their meal and Laura is already explaining her ideas for the wedding. Derek does not care much for those details, but he is glad his sister has something to look forward to. He will be happier once the day has finally arrived.

“Shall we surprise the servants with news of your engagement?” Laura says. “I think we ought to keep them on their toes.”

Derek nods. He does not want to keep this a secret. He wants the whole world to know that he is willing to give himself to Stiles in every possible way.

They hear noise and disagreements coming from downstairs, and Derek can only guess what they are talking about. He hopes it is nothing to do with Stiles’ departure, though a small part of Derek feels that it is.

Laura frowns at him. “Do not worry about this Derek,” she says, as if she has the same fears.

Derek swallows.

“Good morning,” Laura says, coming into view of the servants. They stand at once, words dying in their throats. Their eyes stay on the floor.

Derek stands behind his sister. He sees Miss Reyes, her cheeks red and her eyes dashed with anger. Miss Blake is next to her.

Laura purses her lips. “I do not like all this talk when you should be working,” she says. There should be someone down here to keep everything in order, but Derek cannot see them. “But we have happy news, and I do not want to spoil it.”

The servants look surprised and relieved.

Laura gives Derek a soft look. “Lord Hale is to be married to Lady Burton’s ward at the end of the month,” she announces. “It will be something all of us can look forward to.”

Derek smiles tentatively at the servants, glancing around. He does not care much about what they think, but they live here with him and Derek wants them to like his choice. He wants them all to like Stiles.

But it is quiet. There are a few murmurs going around, most of them unsure as to why a Lord would marry an orphan. Derek tries his best not to scowl.

“We are very happy for you, sir,” Miss Reyes says. Derek looks up at her. She seems genuine, and for some reason almost triumphant.

“Thank you, Miss Reyes,” Derek replies, and she smiles back at him. Some of the servants nod along with her words and Derek almost relaxes, but then he notices Miss Blake standing nearby. Miss Blake’s lips are pressed thinly together, a shadow of anger on her face. She stares at him with dark eyes and Derek is surprised by her hostility.

Miss Blake doesn’t say anything, even though Derek knows she likes to talk.

Laura clears her throat. “I am sure once they are married you will make sure Lord Hale’s husband is treated with kindness and warmth.”

Derek hates that something like that needs to be said in his own home. He knows the servants must think he’s gone mad, but Derek knows that this is one of the best decisions he has ever made.

“That will be all,” Laura says, and Derek is glad to leave.

For the rest of the day he tries not to care about what the servants think. He has Stiles. He has the support of his sister and Derek can ignore the chatter and gossip of his staff. It is impossible to control and Derek does not want to tell them what to think.

His servants will have to answer to Stiles when they are married, will have to do as he says. It is expected and it will all work itself out once Stiles becomes Derek’s equal. It has to.

Derek’s hope for the future is tentative. He is still unsure about what Stiles really wants, still unsure if Stiles would marry him if they were two men with nothing to their name, but he thinks it can only get better from here.

Something keeps Miss Blake’s stormy expression in his mind.

**

He receives a letter from Stiles a few days later. Derek’s heart flutters as he holds the paper in his hands, nervous about its contents. Stiles is not here and the longer they’re apart the more Derek feels like Stiles does not want to be with him.

The days have been passing by quick and slow all at once. There is much to do for the wedding and even though Derek’s sister is taking care of everything, he still worries.

Derek opens the letter with shaking hands.

_Lord Hale,_

_I promised to write to you, so here is my letter. I hope it finds you well. I must say that your proposal was quick and unexpected, and I would not be surprised if you have changed your mind. I know that you do not have to marry me._

_There is not much I can give you, but I hope I can still ask for something. I have a friend. I consider him as a brother even though I have no family. I would like him to attend our wedding if that is acceptable to you._

_I hope this is not too much to ask._

_Stiles._

Derek sighs when he reads the letter. He wishes Stiles understood that the last thing Derek wants to do is change his mind. He wants to let Stiles know that he can ask for _anything_ , and that it would be no trouble at all.

He replies as quickly as he can.

_Stiles,_

_Thank you for your letter. It is nice to hear from you so soon after you left here. The gardens are rather lonely without you._

_Of course your friend may attend your own wedding. I will let Laura know that someone will be arriving with you. I am looking forward to meeting the person you are closest to._

_I must let you know that you may ask anything of me and I will give it to you. I have not changed my mind and nor do I wish to._

_I hope Lady Burton is well after travelling,_

_Derek._

**

Derek finds his sister in one of the drawing rooms, many pieces of paper scattered out in front of her. A servant is sitting with Laura, helping her with what looks like the invitations for the wedding. Laura smiles up at him as he approaches.

“Do we need to invite so many people?” Derek asks. He sees some names that he is wary about, some of them people who would probably look down on Stiles. Derek thinks they may have been invited to the ball but a ball is very different from a wedding.

Laura gives him a sad smile. “I must invite them, Derek. It would be rude not to.”

“Let them sit at the back of the room,” he sighs.

“Do not worry, Derek. I want your wedding to go smoothly,” Laura says. “Isn’t that right, Miss Evans?”

The servant nods beside her. “Yes, Lady Hale.”

“And,” Laura says. “I know Lord Stilinski is out of the country and will not be able to attend. Not everyone I send invitations to will be here.”

Derek sighs. “But he is one of the nicer ones.”

Laura reaches for his hand. “I wish we could have a quiet wedding as well. But don’t you think Stiles would appreciate it if we gave him the same wedding as what we’d give if you were marrying someone of your own status?”

Derek looks at her carefully. It is one of the only times Laura has mentioned Stiles’ position so bluntly. He nods at her.

“Please make room for Stiles’ friend,” Derek tells her quietly. “He would like to invite someone.”

“Of course,” Laura says gently. “Do you have a name?”

Derek shakes his head.

“It does not matter. You should tell Stiles that his friend is welcome to stay here with us for as long as he’d like,” she says.

Derek straightens, pleased. “Stiles would like that.”

“Yes, I think he would. This will be his home now too.”

Derek smiles at her. He leaves his sister be and decides to write Stiles another letter, inviting his friend to stay with them for a few weeks. Before he heads to the library he takes a turn through the garden. He feels the sunlight on his face and he wishes Stiles were here with him, but Derek tries to remind himself that the wait will not be for long.

Seeing the invitations has made the future seem clearer, like his life with Stiles is almost within his grasp. His heart is on display, as if all that he feels has been poured into the words inviting others to see him married.

To them he is not gaining anything from this match, and he thinks it makes his feelings transparent. Derek knows Stiles does not see it yet, but he will. Derek has to make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for waiting for this chapter!! I know it's taken a little bit of time, sorry. Life has been busy. I also want to say thank you so much for all your comments on the last chapter <3 It blew me away, and I was so happy that you all enjoyed it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the wonderful pale-silver-comb <3

_Lord Hale,_

_You cannot know how much I am looking forward to having my friend stay after the wedding. Please thank your sister for the invitation. You have probably guessed this, but I think I will be more comfortable settling in if he is with me. This is all a lot to get used to._

_You seem to have been honest with me in your letters, so I shall do my best to be honest with you here. I do not have the courage to say this to you in person, but thank you for wanting me safe._

_I am sure I will be seeing you very soon,_

_Stiles._

Derek receives the letter the morning Stiles and his friend are to arrive, and he keeps it in his pocket as he waits. It’s a small comfort having Stiles’ words near him, liking that Stiles was honest with him in some way.

The wedding is tomorrow. He tries not to think about how little he knows Stiles, and Derek would feel better if he at least knew the name of Stiles’ friend. Derek wants this person to like him, to approve of their match.

Laura smiles at him from across the room, eyes teasing. “You look unsure, Derek. Are you thinking of changing your mind about the wedding?”

“No,” Derek says harshly, looking up at her.

Her expression softens. “There is no reason to worry, Derek. You have found love, and you are to be married.”

Derek stutters, trying to find words as he thinks. “Laura,” he says in a low voice. “I –”

“You do not love him yet,” Laura guesses. “But there is plenty of time, and I can see you are both fond of each other. Very fond.”

Derek tries not to feel too pleased at his sister’s words. He reminds himself that Stiles is not marrying him out of fondness, but because he has no choice. It is a tough thought to handle, but they hear the sound of a carriage arriving outside.

“Here they are,” Laura says, rising gracefully.

Derek closes his eyes. It takes him a few moments before he can follow his sister.

Some of the servants have lined up outside to greet their guests. They look on curiously, but Derek barely pays attention to them, trying to get a glimpse at Stiles’ face for the first time in a month.

Then Stiles steps out into the sunlight, and Derek feels his chest rise. It gives Derek hope that Stiles immediately tries to find him, smiling shyly when their eyes meet. Derek returns it with a slight blush on his cheeks.

“Stiles!” Laura says, opening her arms in greeting. “It is wonderful seeing you again.”

“Lady Laura,” Stiles says, glancing at servants. He ignores them and turns to Derek’s sister. “Thank you for inviting us. May I introduce my friend, Mr. Scott McCall?”

Derek finally notices the other man who has stepped outside the carriage. His hair is short, a dark brown color, and his eyes look excited and awed as he stares up at the house.

“Scott,” says Stiles nervously, and the man focuses on Derek. “This is Lord Hale and his sister, Lady Laura.”

“It is nice to finally meet you,” he says, smiling brightly. Scott nods his head at them and he sounds incredibly genuine. “Stiles has told me a lot about you.”

Stiles looks up at the sky, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Not, not that much,” he mutters, and Derek smiles. He feels that fondness Laura was talking about.

“I am sure we have a lot to live up to,” Laura says smoothly, gesturing for one of the servants to take their luggage. Derek frowns. There are only two small cases, and Derek wonders why Stiles has so little things.

“Is Lady Burton not here?” Derek says.

Stiles looks at him, and then keeps looking at him. “She is unwell. The doctor says she should not travel.”

Derek nods. “Oh. I am sorry she could not be here.”

Stiles shrugs a little, and then Laura is ushering them inside. The house looks beautiful for the wedding, fresh flowers in every room, whites and pinks and purples greeting them wherever they go. Scott seems to admire them as they go past.

“I will go and get Mr. Meadows,” Laura says to Stiles. “He will be looking after you and Mr. McCall while you stay here.”

“Oh!” says Scott. “I do not need anyone. I am quite fine on my own.”

Laura frowns. “If – if you are sure?”

“Yes,” Scott says happily. “I have always dressed myself.”

“You have?” Laura says, before she can help herself.

There’s quiet for a moment and Laura looks uncomfortable, unable to take back her words. Derek tries to smile at her, but it seems like the problem isn’t theirs. Scott and Stiles are giving each other hard looks, almost as if they are having a conversation without speaking.

Stiles finally sighs. “Scott is a servant in Lady Burton’s home,” he says quietly.

Laura’s eyes widen. She looks at Derek.

“I am happy to stay in the servant’s quarters,” Scott says, words coming out slow.

“That is unnecessary,” Derek says, speaking before his sister can. “You are our guest here, and a friend of Stiles’. Please stay in the guest wing, and join us for dinner.”

A slow grin starts on Scott’s face.

“Do you have something to wear to dinner?” Laura asks kindly. Scott shakes his head. “I am sure we can find you something. But perhaps you will need Mr. Meadows to help you with it?”

Stiles looks at his friend. “I think that might be best. These things are always too complicated.”

Scott shrugs, but he hasn’t lost his smile. Mr. Meadows soon comes, his expression blank as he leads Scott and Stiles to the guest wing, luggage in hand.

Stiles lingers behind. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Derek says quietly. Laura has disappeared and Derek is lost for words, unsure what to say now that they are alone after a month apart.

He risks looking up and Stiles is standing close.

“Lord Hale, I –” he pauses. “I hope you and Scott will like each other.”

Derek smiles. “I hope so too.”

Stiles lowers his voice. “Sometimes, when we had guests, even I would not be allowed to join everyone for dinner.”

Derek frowns.

“So thank you,” he says seriously. “For letting Scott sit with us tonight.”

“You thank me for things that are too easy to do,” Derek says. Stiles does not answer him. “I am very happy to see you.”

He smiles then. “I could not tell. You have not said much.”

Derek huffs. “I never say much.”

“Except in your letters,” Stiles says. “You do not use many words, but you say quite a lot.”

He looks at Stiles then, hand resting against the letter in his pocket. He wants to say that he has the opposite problem, that he wants to know more than what Stiles has given him so far. Derek wonders if Stiles knows what he is thinking.

“Then you will know that I hope you will enjoy tomorrow,” Derek says.

Stiles nibbles his lip. “I have never been to a wedding before. I do not know what to expect.”

“Neither do I,” Derek admits, scratching his cheek. He’s been too nervous to listen to what Laura has been telling him over the past couple of weeks. “I am sure it cannot be too hard.”

Stiles almost laughs, almost, and Derek is left waiting for it.

“I should go and find Scott,” Stiles says.

Derek nods and starts to walk towards the guest wing. “I hope you do not mind that you are staying in the guest room for only one night.”

Stiles follows behind him. “Oh?”

Derek hesitates. “Our rooms are in the west wing,” he says, the back of his neck hot. Derek hears Stiles stumble behind him, and Derek does not blame him. Tomorrow night, after they are married, there will only be a door between them.

“Oh,” Stiles says, more quiet than before. Derek wishes he had not brought it up.

They make their way over to the guest rooms in silence, but whenever Derek looks over his shoulder Stiles smiles at him. He looks almost happy to be here, like this isn’t something he is being forced into. Derek holds onto that.

But then they round the corner and Scott is there, hands clenched by his sides. His whole body seems to be vibrating with anger, and immediately Derek knows something is wrong. Scott marches up to them.

“Why is she here?” Scott hisses. “Stiles.”

Stiles looks around. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

“Yes you do.”

Stiles takes a step backward. “Scott,” he pleads.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There is nothing to tell,” Stiles says. Derek looks between them, lost.

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” Scott says seriously. All the excitement, happiness at being here has left his face. “Maybe you should come back home with me.”

Stiles makes a noise, his face going red. “I told you, I can’t.”

“But – she – _Stiles_ ,” Scott says. His eyes are brimmed with worry and Derek is not sure what is happening. All he hears is Stiles leaving, Stiles going away and never coming back again. The wedding is so close, so close, and Derek cannot believe he is listening to this.

“You will be here,” Stiles says, but his voice shakes.

Scott looks at him sadly. “Not for long.”

“And then Lord Hale will be here.”

Scott pauses, and then he turns, eyes dark, towards Derek. It’s like this is somehow his fault, that this alarming conversation is happening all because of him. Derek does not know what brought it on. “But he doesn’t know.”

“And I do not want him to,” Stiles grits out. “I will be fine. I will be fine. It will be different.”

“But – Stiles, this is not a good idea. I do not want to leave you here, not if something is to go wrong.”

Stiles sighs, and Derek has had enough. He glares at them both, trying not to look like his heart is breaking. He does not think he can handle this kind of talk. He clears his throat and they both fall quiet.

“Are you going to tell me what on earth you are talking about?”

They say nothing.

“Then please wait until I am gone before you continue,” Derek says in a hard voice. “Especially if you are trying to persuade Stiles to leave.”

Scott looks sheepish, and he starts to shake his head. “That is not –” Stiles jabs him in the side, and Derek swears under his breath. Scott puts his hands behind his back and bows his head a little. “I apologize. Lord Hale.”

Derek sighs. “I think Laura has quite a lot of things for us all to do today. Perhaps we should get to them.”

Stiles nods. Derek turns to leave, and he has no idea what to think, no idea how to fix this. He feels tired all of a sudden. Stiles might change his mind about tomorrow, even though he has nowhere else to go.

But then Stiles catches his arm. Derek stops walking, closes his eyes.

“Lord Hale,” Stiles whispers. His fingers have circled around Derek’s wrist, over his bare skin. He can barely hold back a shiver at Stiles’ touch. “Do not worry. Please.”

Derek keeps his eyes on the floor, but turns towards him.

“We will see you downstairs,” Stiles tells him. “And then tomorrow we will be married.”

“We’ll be married,” Derek murmurs, meeting his gaze. Stiles smiles nervously, and drops his arm. Derek swears he can still feel the press of Stiles’ fingers.

He takes a deep breath, and turns back around. As he leaves he can feel Scott staring at him carefully, but Derek tries to ignore it. He still wants to like Scott, he still wants Stiles to stay, but he hopes they will tell him what is wrong. If Derek does not know, then he cannot make it better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked the chapter!! The next chapter shouldn't be far away, and you have a certain wedding to look forward to <3
> 
> Thank you all for your comments :) :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to pale-silver-comb <33

Stiles has been looking cheerful. Derek is not sure if it’s because Laura is here, or if he is trying to make up for what happened earlier in the day. The morning’s events have thrown Derek more than he’d like, and now he is not sure what to expect.

They stand in the church, the rows and rows of seats empty. The celebrant is talking with them and Derek listens carefully as they are told what to do. He does not want to get this wrong.

“Am I going to be walking down the aisle?” Stiles says.

Derek looks at him. “Do you want to?”

He shrugs.

Laura raises an eyebrow. “Neither of you have to. But Stiles is the one arriving at a new place, and it is only fitting if he walked down the aisle.”

Scott is sitting on one of the seats. He giggles. Stiles picks a fallen flower from the ground at throws it at him. Derek has never seen him look lighter, has never seen such a wide smile on Stiles’ face. He tries not to feel jealous that Stiles is clearly more comfortable being with his friend.

“Please tell me you will not do that during the wedding,” Laura says.

Stiles blushes. “I will only do what you tell me to, Lady Laura.”

“You flatter me, Stiles,” she says. Derek bites back a smile.

“I promise to behave as well,” Scott says. He turns to Derek. “I promise.”

Derek attempts to smile, only a little bit grateful for Scott’s words. Maybe this means he won’t try to take Stiles away.

He startles when Stiles reaches for his hands, pulling Derek from his thoughts. His touch is soft, light, and Derek holds his breath. They are still practicing for tomorrow, but he likes the feel of Stiles’ thin fingers between his own.

“Now we put on the rings,” Stiles says softly.

“Yes,” Derek says. His hands are starting to sweat.

“And then, do we, do we kiss?”

Derek blinks at him. He hadn’t thought about that, thought about doing that in front of so many people. It makes his skin go hot with embarrassment because he does not want to do it wrong. He does not want to make it unpleasant for Stiles.

“Only if you want to,” Derek finally says, even though it’s part of a traditional wedding. Stiles pulls away from him.

“Perhaps I will surprise you,” he says shyly, nervously.

“You do not have to,” Derek is quick to say, but he glances at Stiles’ lips.

It is silent between them, but they can hear the servants still decorating the church and arranging the aisle seats. They hear the celebrant finish talking and Laura is soon asking for Stiles. Derek watches him walk away.

Scott comes up to him. “He likes you. More than he is willing to admit, even to himself.”

Derek holds his breath.

“And I can tell that you like him very much, from your letters and from seeing you here,” Scott says, turning to face him.

Derek frowns. “You have read my letters?”

“Uh,” Scott says, panicked and searching for words. “Yes? Stiles showed them to me.”

“Oh. You must be very close then.”

Scott sticks his hands in his pockets.  He does not deny it, and Derek tries not to feel embarrassed that this man has seen how much he feels for Stiles, has seen his words vulnerable on a page.

“You care about him.”

“Yes,” Derek says.

“It’s been a while since someone has cared about Stiles,” he says.

Derek has guessed this, but he hates to have it confirmed from someone who knows Stiles so well. He tries not to feel slighted that Scott has read his letters, when he assumed they’d stay private. It makes him feel silly for keeping Stiles’ letter in his pocket.

Scott gives him an encouraging look, before he follows after where Stiles disappeared.

Derek looks around the church. Sunlight shines through the stained glass windows, throwing pink and yellow light everywhere. It is stunning and perfect, and Derek’s heart is beating so hard, waiting, waiting for tomorrow to finally come.

**

Boyd straightens his collar, smiling faintly. The excitement of the wedding buzzes through the household and all the servants can look forward to the ceremony, can look forward to the celebrations afterward.

“Sir?” Boyd asks.

“Yes?”

“I thought you would like to know,” Boyd says, “That everyone downstairs thinks that Mr. McCall is only a servant himself.”

Derek turns to him. “That is true.”

Boyd looks surprised. He swallows. “Mr. Meadows does not want to serve someone of his own status. Or someone who he feels is below him.”

Derek’s nostrils flare. “I do not care about what Mr. Meadows wants.”

“I am only letting you know, sir,” Boyd says quietly. “I am sure he is meeting his responsibilities.”

Derek sighs. “Thank you, Boyd.”

Dinner is easier than Derek thinks it will be. He watches his servants carefully, almost angry, but they are composed, even looking forward to the wedding tomorrow. Scott looks eagerly at the food even though it is barely a feast, and he is wearing finer clothes than he has probably worn his whole life.

Stiles laughs at his friend’s unintentionally poor manners and Laura sits back, sipping her wine in disbelief. It hasn’t been so happy here in a long time.

Stiles sits opposite Derek, picking slowly at his food, sometimes catching his eye.

“Tomorrow will be a long and happy day,” Laura says at the end of the meal. “We should get some sleep.”

“I doubt sleeping is a thing that will happen,” Stiles admits, standing. “But I will say goodnight.”

His voice is soft and all Derek can do is nod back, knowing he will be thinking of Stiles all night. It all seems so real. Stiles’ smile is careful but  _ real _ , like he wants to be here, like he would not mind marrying Derek. It is too good to be true.

Laura reaches over him once their guests have left, squeezing his hand. “Are you happy?” she asks.

Derek turns to her. “He is so wonderful, Laura. I do not think I deserve him.”

She sighs and kisses his cheek. “Derek, do not think like that.”

Derek does not get any sleep that night, and he wonders if Stiles is lying awake too. He has more to think about, more to fear, more to hope for. Stiles will be living in a new place with people he barely knows.

He will have a new life.

**

The wedding is in the late morning. The guests start to arrive and Derek is not allowed to see Stiles before they are in the church. It makes him unsettled, makes him wish that yesterday he got one more moment alone with Stiles.

He has a white flower pinned to his coat and he greets people as they arrive, accepting their congratulations even though Derek does not think they care. Laura is better at this than him, but she is rushing around to settle last minute problems.

“I can do this,” Derek mutters to himself. His hands are sweaty.

Boyd clears his throat. “I am sure you can.”

Derek feels Boyd stand next to him and he scratches his cheek. “I did not know you were there.”

“Clearly, sir,” Boyd says. His lip twitches but otherwise he does not laugh. “Miss Reyes has something for you.”

Derek turns his head, smiling as people walk past him. Boyd reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small flask. Derek raises an eyebrow.

“And how did she get that?” he asks.

Boyd shrugs. He does not appear fussed. “It is very busy in the kitchen; it is not her fault if things are left alone for a few minutes.”

Derek shakes his head, but he reaches for the flask and takes a small mouthful. He thinks he feels better with some alcohol down his throat. Boyd puts the flask back in his pocket like nothing happened.

Laura looks beautiful in the dress she has chosen. It suits her figure, the pale pink fabric pulled around her waist before it falls to the ground. She smiles at him.

“It is time,” she says, taking his arm. They walk the short distance to the church and all the servants are there, part of the family, sitting in the back rows. He sees Scott near the front and he gives Derek a reassuring look. God knows he needs it.

Then the music starts, and a little bit of Derek thinks that it is too much. A choir sings and Derek honestly does not know how his sister managed to organize this, this big, beautiful wedding. All the guests stand and strain their eyes to see Stiles, to see the man they think Derek should not marry.

Derek tries to breathe. But then he sees Stiles, sees Stiles coming down the aisle with his chin raised determinedly. He does not look at all the people he does not know, his eyes forward, his eyes on Derek.

He looks incredibly handsome. The clothes he is in are clean and crisp and new. It is nothing like the night Derek first met him, in his ratty suit and looking so out of place that Derek never should have talked to him.

But here, now, he belongs. It is impossible for Derek to think anything different.

Stiles reaches the end of the aisle and the music fades. Derek holds out a hand, hoping no one will notice that his fingers are shaking, but then Stiles places his hands over Derek’s and holds on tight. Derek winces.

“Sorry,” Stiles says, under his breath. “There are so many people here.”

Derek smiles gently at him. “Do not look at them. Look at me.”

Stiles’ brown eyes roam over his face, eyelashes fluttering. Then he nods, and Derek barely listens to what the celebrant says, too focused on Stiles in front of him. Derek rubs a thumb over Stiles’ knuckles and thinks that this is just one of their dances, one of their dances where they get to forget about the world.

When it is time to give each other the wedding rings, the band is too big for Stiles’ finger. Stiles smiles lopsidedly at him, but Derek knows his sister will get it changed later.

Derek barely notices it when everyone starts to clap. He blinks at Stiles, and then he thinks  _ he’s married. Stiles will be safe and warm and this will be his home _ .

Stiles’ grip on his fingers tightens. “Lord Hale,” he whispers.

“Will you finally call me Derek?” he says back.

“Derek.”

The name dances past his lips, and then Derek is hardly expecting it but Stiles leans forward. His lips stop just shy of Derek’s, and Derek’s eyes flutter shut. He feels Stiles’ warm breath and then there is a pair of lips pressing gently at the corner of his mouth.

Derek sighs happily.

When he opens his eyes again Stiles’ cheeks are red, and he’s staring at the floor. Derek takes his arm, his lips tingling from his very first kiss. They walk out of the church, too many eyes on them, but Derek cannot bring himself to care.

**

They celebrate outside, the warm weather a blessing. Stiles stays close to Derek’s side, barely speaking to the people around them. Derek is not sure if his husband,  _ his husband _ , is comfortable or not so he takes Stiles’ hand and asks him to dance.

“Here?” Stiles asks, biting his lip.

“It is our wedding,” Derek tells him, and he leads Stiles to a small patch of grass in front of the musicians. Stiles places his hands on Derek’s chest and comes in close. They hear Scott cheering from not very far away.

“Do you think my dancing skills have improved?” Stiles asks, a small grin on his face.

Derek chuckles. “No.”

Stiles huffs. “No? I think that may be a bit too harsh.”

Derek says nothing and simply pulls Stiles closer.

He dances with his sister next, and she laughs as Derek spins her around. He thanks her for the lovely day, for all the music and the garden chairs that haven’t been used since their parents were alive. Once most of the food has gone, some of the servants start to dance with each other too and it is nice. It is a better day than Derek was expecting.

He catches Boyd’s eye, tilts his head towards Miss Reyes who is looking at the dancing couples eagerly. Boyd deliberately ignores him and Derek laughs, hoping that in the next hour he finds the courage to ask Miss Reyes to dance.

And then the day is over.

Derek is exhausted, but he thinks he may be happy. Stiles mostly looked like he was enjoying himself, smiled whenever Derek met his gaze.

Boyd helps him get dressed into his night clothes and he remembers Stiles’ soft kiss at the ceremony. He wonders if something else is to happen, if their wedding night could have Derek pressing kisses into Stiles’ skin.

Boyd clears his throat. “Sir.”

Derek looks at him, his fingers quivering as he laces up his night shirt. Boyd seems to brace himself before he tilts his head towards the table next to Derek’s bed. There is a vial of oil and Derek stares at it.

Boyd pauses for a long time. Derek does not move either.

“Do you know what to do?” he finally says. “Sir.”

Derek does not know. He does not know, but he turns towards Boyd and refuses to give an answer. They stare at each other and Derek keeps his face perfectly blank. This is too embarrassing. The seconds pass too slowly, but then Boyd blinks and walks away without another word.

Derek sighs in relief.

He hears Stiles pacing in the room next to his, hears his own heartbeat screaming in his chest. Derek walks over slowly and knocks on the door separating their rooms.

He holds his breath. He holds his breath and waits.

Stiles’ footsteps come closer; stopping a moment before Stiles finally pulls the door open.

“You said that I didn’t –”

Derek curses himself for being so stupid. Today had felt  _ right _ , had felt like it might be something but it’s not. Of course it’s not.

“You don’t,” Derek tells him, smiling weakly. “I wanted to wish you a goodnight.”

Stiles looks unsure, and his face is half covered in darkness. He fiddles with a chain around his neck and Derek looks at that instead of the too thin clothes that barely hide Stiles’ body. He has never seen a naked man before and even this is overwhelming.

“Goodnight,” Stiles says quietly.

“Your – your necklace,” Derek says, searching for something to say because Stiles looks a little scared. He looks like Derek might go back on his promise and Derek cannot have that. “It looks nice.”

“I have had it all my life,” Stiles says. “I always keep it on.”

The chain is gold, with a narrow white pendant hanging from it. There are two letters scratched onto the surface but Derek cannot make out what they are from here. He glances up at Stiles.

“Have lovely dreams,” he says.

Stiles nods and slowly closes the door. Their eyes stay on each other until finally the door clicks and Stiles disappears from view. It takes more than a few moments before Derek can walk away. He falls onto his bed, hoping to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wedding!! Yay :) :) I hope you all liked it!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to pale-silver-comb for being so wonderful <3

 Derek wakes before the sun rises, not expecting to feel so alone. He slowly dresses himself and when he sees the wedding ring on his finger, he cannot help but smile. Nothing is perfect, but Stiles is here, sleeping in the next room.

 Derek sees the vial of oil sitting by his bed and his heart trips. He hides it quickly; embarrassed to have even asked Stiles for something he so clearly didn’t want.

 “I hope you are well rested,” Laura says to him at breakfast, hiding her smile.

 Derek says nothing to her and takes a piece of bread. He wonders what a married man ought to look like after their wedding night, he wonders if everyone can tell that he did not share a bed with Stiles even though it is expected.

 “Where is he?” Laura asks.

 “He was still sleeping,” Derek says quietly.

 He hides a yawn and eats his breakfast. Derek has nothing to do today, all of his work carefully pushed aside until Stiles has settled in with him.

 “It is a beautiful day outside,” Laura says. “Perhaps we should have a picnic.”

 Derek perks up. “I think Stiles would like that.”

 “What would I like?”

 Stiles is by the door, his hands in front of him. He looks tired, and Derek stares at him for a moment. He hopes all is well between them, despite Stiles closing the door on him last night.

 “A picnic,” Laura says.

 Stiles looks at him. “You are exactly right, Lord Hale,” he says teasingly. “I would love a picnic.”

 Derek sits up straighter, gives him a tentative smile.

 “I will tell the kitchen staff,” Laura says, and then she is gone. He and Stiles are left alone, and Derek is worried for a moment. They stare at each other without knowing what to say, and finally Stiles sits down. He clears his throat.

 “Good morning.” He pauses. “Derek.”

 “You used my name.”

 Stiles grins at him. He takes some food but barely touches it. “Do you like it when I use your name, then?”

 Derek gives him an unimpressed look. “You know that I do.”

 Stiles looks at him carefully. His brown eyes look lovely as he thinks, as he hesitates before leaning forward. “Do you – do you feel different? Now that you are married?” he says.

 Stiles’ voice is quiet, genuine, worried. He bites his lip as he waits for Derek’s response and Derek barely knows how to answer. Under the table, he twists the wedding ring on his finger.

 “Not much has changed,” Derek admits. “But I am relieved that you’re here. I did not think I would ever get this.”

 Stiles sits back. His eyes have narrowed. “Lord Hale, you know that out of the two of us _you_ are the one that can afford to dream.”

 Derek sighs. “I am only trying to answer your question. Do you feel different?”

 He shrugs, pushing his plate away. “I feel relieved as well. That is all.”

 Derek knows in his heart that weeks, months from now he will feel very different. It is a long enough time to learn to love someone, to learn to share your life with someone. But he cannot tell Stiles this. He cannot tell Stiles how much he will care, because Stiles will not believe it.

 “I do not know what to expect,” Stiles admits.

 Derek pushes his hand along the table. Stiles looks at it but does not take it. “Do you think I know?”

 “You might,” Stiles whispers.

 “I do not,” Derek says honestly.

 It does not look like Stiles is going to finish his breakfast so Derek gets up. He opens the door and he sees the servants waiting outside for them. Miss Blake is there.

 “Congratulations, sir,” she says, her smile putting Derek on edge. “Your wedding was very beautiful.”

 “Thank you,” he finally says. He feels Stiles come up behind him, feels the way he angles his body away, like he’s bored, like he wants to leave.

 “Stiles,” Miss Blake calls out. “How is Lady Burton? She must be pleased you have found such a good match.”

 Stiles steps to the side, gritting his teeth together. “I am sure she is.”

 Miss Blake opens her mouth, but Derek speaks over her. He keeps his voice flat, not liking the way Miss Blake’s eyes travel over his body. He wonders if she thinks it’s harmless. “Miss Blake,” he says. “If you are to address my husband, you are to address him with his proper title.”

 She and the other servants dare to look confused.

 “He is Lord Hale to you,” Derek says.

 Miss Blake’s nostrils flare. She does not look happy as Derek waits for her to correct her mistake. “Lord Hale,” she says, turning towards Stiles.

 Then Derek walks away, and Stiles follows. They walk down the corridor until they reach the library and Derek finally feels like he can relax.

 Stiles grabs his arm. “I did not realize.”

 “What?” Derek says, frowning.

 “I am _Lord_ Hale now,” he says, a slow grin on his face.

 “Of course you are,” Derek says, almost angrily. He wonders why the world does not see this. He married Stiles so that they could be equals, so that they could have a chance together. “Of course we have the same title.”

 Stiles tilts his head to the side. “I think that may be too confusing for the servants,” he says. “Two Lord Hales in one house. It would have been better if you had married a woman.”

 “If you were a woman you would still get confused with my sister, Stiles,” he says.

 Stiles shrugs. He takes a step closer, but looks around at the library. “I will be able to finish those books now,” he says.

 “Yes,” Derek says, watching him. “Tell Scott he may borrow as many as he wants as well.”

 “Thank you,” Stiles says. “Scott likes to study, but he barely has the time.”

 “Will he join us for our picnic?”

 “Well, I hope so,” Stiles huffs. “I only have a short amount of time with him before he is gone forever.”

 Derek raises an eyebrow, but Stiles only gives him a cheeky look, eyes bright. His words are exaggerated but Derek cannot help but feel that they hold some truth. Scott and Stiles have had to say goodbye now that Stiles is married.

**

 “I remember when you fell asleep outside,” Scott says, laughing. “You came back to the house with your skin a bright pink.”

 Stiles glares at his friend. “It was very comfortable outside!”

 “On the grass?” Laura asks lightly. Derek sees the way her lip twitches.

 “Where else?” Stiles grumbles, taking an apple from the basket of food in front of them. He takes a bite and the juice dribbles down his chin. Derek watches, and he can see that Stiles is hiding a smile.

 Derek clears his throat. “I once fell in the lake,” he says. “We had guests and my father had to pull me out of the water.”

 Laura throws her head back and laughs as she remembers. Derek’s chest warms at her reaction, and he sees Stiles smile gratefully at him. Derek won’t let him be the only one teased here.

 “How long have you two known each other?” Laura asks the two of them.

 Scott grins. “For as long as Stiles has been at Lady Burton’s. My mother was working there when she had me,” he says. “And I have been there for as long as I can remember.”

 Stiles fiddles with the grass at the edge of the picnic blanket, falling quiet at his friend’s story. Derek looks at him, wonders how Stiles truly feels about his memories at Lady Burton’s house.

 Laura frowns, and at least she hesitates before asking her question. “But you are a servant,” she says. “Surely it wasn’t permitted for you to spend too much time with Stiles.”

 Scott does not look offended. He simply smiles, and Derek admires the way he is able to look so friendly all of the time. “Stiles likes to break the rules,” Scott says fondly.

 Laura chuckles. “Derek is quite the opposite.”

 Stiles looks up. “That is not true. Derek likes to do what is right, but he did not care about rules the night we met.”

 Derek’s heart beats and for a terrifying second he thinks Stiles is going to tell them all what happened in that small, far away room. Instead Stiles takes a breath and lowers his voice dramatically.

 “He asked me to dance without us ever being introduced!”

 Laura purses her lips, turning towards Derek. “Did you?”

 Derek blushes. “I – I did not realize until now.”

 She sighs, taking a sip of her drink. Derek knows his sister is only teasing him but he is disappointed in himself for not doing things properly. No wonder Stiles thought he was a man up to no good.

 “Well,” Scott chirps. “I remember that Stiles was very happy he was finally able to dance.”

 Stiles pretends to scowl, looking away and stretching out on the picnic blanket. He leans back on his jacket, off now that the sun is too hot, and Stiles pushes his shirt sleeves to his elbows. Derek’s throat goes dry now that he can see the soft hair on Stiles’ arms.

 He swallows down some water. He does not know why he is so affected by a little skin. Stiles does not want that from Derek, he does not want Derek’s thoughts to head that way.

 “Scott,” Laura says warmly. “Would you like to walk me back to the house?”

 Scott stands and wipes his hands on his pants. He holds out an arm and Laura takes it gracefully. She waves her hand so that the two servants standing out of earshot follow them.

 Stiles huffs once they are gone. “Your sister is not subtle.”

 “What do you mean?”

 Stiles closes his eyes, settling back and soaking up the sun. Derek is free to look at him, to look at the curve of his lips. “She is always trying to get us alone.”

 “She wants me happy,” Derek says quietly.

 Stiles says nothing. He does not acknowledge that being with Stiles is what makes Derek happy.

 Derek puts the rest of the food away, placing it in the picnic basket. He will have to remember to thank the kitchen for the lovely food later.

 There is quiet between him and Stiles and it is almost peaceful. It has been a long time since Derek had little to do, since he could simply sit and listen to the wind, listen to the birds talk to each other.

 “Stiles,” Derek says quietly, remembering something.

 Stiles flicks his eyes open. The sun shines on them, turns them a brilliant brown. “Yes?”

 Derek meets his gaze. “Why did you show Scott my letters?”

 He sits up immediately, scratching his cheek. “Derek –”

 “I know he is your friend,” Derek says quickly.

 “He is a good friend,” Stiles says, smiling slightly. Then his warm expression fades and all he looks is embarrassed. “You did not want me to.”

 Derek says nothing. “I like Scott, but –”

 “Let me explain?” Stiles says. He brings his knees to his chest and he looks very small all of a sudden. Derek stops talking. He stops talking and waits. “I did not believe you really wanted me. Scott told me that perhaps you did.”

 Derek smiles. “Really?”

 Stiles rolls his eyes. “He also told me I could not afford to just toss you away.”

 “Oh.”

 “And,” he says, voice hoarse. “You know I am not a very good reader. I am a worse writer.”

 Derek frowns.

 “I – I wrote them myself, but I did not want to embarrass myself, Lord Hale. He read over the letters before I sent them so I could be sure there were no mistakes,” Stiles says quickly. “Scott’s mother taught him how to read.”

 “Please call me Derek,” he reminds Stiles softly. “What about your tutors?”

 Stiles says nothing.

 “Stiles.”

 He turns his head away, starts to hum something under his breath. Derek does not want Stiles to share things with him that he does not want to, but Derek cannot help but give him a gentle push. He wants Stiles to know that he can tell Derek anything.

 “Could Lady Burton afford to give you tutors?”

 “Yes,” Stiles mumbles.

 “Were they not very good?” Derek asks, and perhaps they weren’t, if Stiles was not confident to write to him without showing his friend the letters first.

 He sighs. “Not in the way you are thinking. They did not like me, and I have trouble focussing if I am inside for too long. My tutors did not think I was clever enough.”

 Derek’s nostrils flare. “So they just did not teach you?”

 “Not really,” Stiles says. “I tried to teach myself, but I do not think I did a very good job.”

 Derek grits his teeth together, struggling to understand why Stiles had to go through all of this. It does not make sense to him, it just doesn’t, and he wants to take those tutors aside and tell them how awful they were to do that.

 Stiles bites his lip. “Do you believe me? Perhaps I was a rather difficult child.”

 “Even if you were,” says Derek hotly, “They still should have been helping you.”

 “I am only an orphan, Derek,” Stiles says, voice resigned.

 “You are not only an orphan,” Derek says. “You are a Lord now.”

 Stiles gives him a weak smile. His eyes have dimmed and Derek sees that Stiles does not think it matters, does not think it’s worth anything.

 Derek calms. “You are clever, Stiles. And you are not afraid to tell me what you think.”

 “I am afraid to tell you some things,” Stiles admits. When Derek opens his mouth to ask, Stiles shakes his head. He stands up and acts as if he has said nothing. “Let us get back. Thank you for the picnic, it was a wonderful idea.”

 Derek blinks. He walks a few steps behind Stiles, carrying the picnic gear and gathering his thoughts. There are so many things he does not know about Stiles. There are so many instances where Stiles has been pushed aside, has been hurt, and Derek realizes that Stiles has told him hardly any of it.

 He wonders what it would have been like to grow up without his wealth, without his title, and it scares Derek that he cannot imagine it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter <3
> 
> I don't know how long this fic is going to be, but we still have to find out about Stiles' past, and of course everything to do with Blake. Things will be getting _slightly_ interesting next chapter! Maybe. Hopefully.
> 
> Thank you for all your comments :) :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to pale-silver-comb!! <3

“I hope you are looking forward to dinner tonight, Lord Hale,” Miss Reyes says. She smiles widely and gestures to all the food that she is preparing on the table. “Your husband’s friend deserves the best for his last night here.”

Derek smiles gratefully at her. “Thank you.”

“Mr. McCall is very friendly,” Miss Reyes says. She lifts her chin. “I do not care that he is another servant.”

Derek raises an eyebrow, taking a step backwards. “I must get back to the library. Stiles is waiting for me.”

She smiles, pouting slightly. “Thank you for visiting. I thought you had forgotten about us.”

Derek runs a hand through his hair. He has known Miss Reyes a long time, since before his parents died. He feels guilty for being so distracted, for spending so much time with Stiles and Scott and forgetting some of his other duties. “I will try and come down here more often.”

Miss Reyes’ smile widens, and she claps her hands. “That is nice to hear. I have not spoken with you since before your wedding, and that was weeks ago!”

Derek looks down, feeling his cheeks go pink. “It has been a busy time.”

“Yes,” she says. “I am very happy for you, sir.”

“Thank you,” Derek tells her, and he thinks of Stiles. It’s been a fine two weeks, and Stiles has been smiling but his eyes have dimmed now that his friend is leaving.

He leaves Miss Reyes and heads to the library. Stiles is curled up against the cushions, a book on his lap. Derek watches him for a few moments, admires the moles over his cheek.

“Do you want me to –”

Stiles looks up. He closes his book and places it on the table, not even bothering to mark his page. Derek takes a breath. They have not spoken about Stiles’ ability to read or write since the picnic, and Stiles has deliberately not mentioned it.

When Derek does not say anything, Stiles sighs.

“Scott is leaving.”

“Yes,” Derek says. “I wish he could stay longer.”

“You do?”

Derek nods, and Stiles lets himself look surprised for only a moment. Then his fingers start to tap against his knees, moving rapidly, and a frustrated noise comes out of his mouth.

“Stiles?”

He grits his teeth together, barely looking Derek in the eye. Derek sits down next to him, unsure. He reaches out a hand to touch, to calm, but he is not sure if he is welcome. Derek puts his hands in his lap.

Stiles throws his head back and groans. Derek sees the column of his throat and thanks the fact they are alone. “Derek,” he hisses. “What am I supposed to do here? You are busy; Scott is going, tell me what I am meant to do. I need to do something.”

Derek swallows, and then Stiles is looking at him with pleading his eyes.

“What did you do at Lady Burton’s?” Derek asks.

Stiles blinks, and then he sits back. He laughs without humor and it’s not nice seeing Stiles like this, not when he has been acting so light and free over the past two weeks. “I kept to myself,” he says shortly.

Derek says nothing. He gathers his thoughts, keeping his eyes on Stiles’ face until Stiles squirms from the attention.

“Please say something.”

“You can help me with what I do,” Derek says. “But running the estate can be quite boring sometimes.”

Stiles snorts.

“You do not have to – but Laura may get married one day. Then someone will need to organize the house,” Derek says. “Perhaps you can learn from her.”

“Organize the house,” he says flatly.

“You do not have to,” Derek says quickly.

“Good,” Stiles huffs. He folds his arms and there is an uncomfortable silence between them. Derek knows Stiles is stressed because his friend is leaving, but it cannot be that bad living here. Surely, surely there is something Stiles can do.

Derek does not know what to say. He begins to stand, but then quickly stops when Stiles looks at him in disbelief.

“Is that all you can offer me?”

Derek sighs. “Stiles, I do not know what you like.”

“It is your house!”

“I do not know!” Derek says. “There are walks you can go on. You can learn to paint, you can do _anything._ ”

Stiles lets out a shaky breath. He suddenly looks smaller, and he presses further back into the sofa. He tilts his head to the side, and if they are arguing Derek is at least grateful that Stiles feels comfortable to do so. He begins to smile, and Stiles glares at him.

“What?”

Derek shakes his head, the corner of his mouth lifted even as he feels quite hollow. “Nothing,” he says quickly. “I am just reminded of what my father used to say.”

Stiles leans forward a little. “What did he say?” he asks quietly.

“He used to say that he knew he made the right choice when he married my mother,” Derek says, “Because even when they fought, he still wanted to be her husband.”

Stiles huffs, but his cheeks are pink, like he’s pleased. “I suppose we are fighting now.”

“Yes,” Derek says. “We are.”

“I am sorry – I just, I do not know what I am doing, or what I want to do,” Stiles says with a sigh. He looks almost heartbroken, like he was looking, hoping for something but it’s just not there.

“We will find something,” Derek says to him, as earnestly as he can. He wants to give Stiles the world, but perhaps that is not the best thing when there is so much to choose from. He hopes Stiles will find something to occupy himself with that will make him happy. “I can help you with your studies.”

He scrunches his eyebrows together.

“I do not know if you want to get better at reading – or, or writing,” Derek says. “But I can help you. I want you to feel comfortable with your abilities.”

The sweetest, slowest smile emerges on Stiles’ face. “Would you?”

“Yes,” Derek says, looking down, his breath lost in his chest. “We can keep it between us, if you would like.”

“Thank you,” Stiles says, and his shoulders look less tense. He is not frowning anymore and Derek sighs in relief. He wants to do all that he can to make Stiles comfortable, but it is hard, especially as Derek has to admit that he does not know his husband very well.

“Do not worry about it tonight,” Derek tells him. “We have a special meal planned because Scott is leaving. All the dishes will be placed right in front of you. It is something my parents used to do.” He takes a breath. “It was fun to see what ended up on our plates.”

Derek is suddenly hit with memories of his parents, and even though he is getting better at thinking of them without his heart hurting, he misses them now. Those evenings when it was just their family were precious, happy.

He wants to share it with Stiles, share it with him and his friend.

“Derek,” Stiles says softly. He reaches out and touches Derek’s arm, fingers hesitating before they settle more firmly over Derek’s sleeve.

Derek exhales. He feels sad, but he makes himself look at Stiles’ face. “I am sorry.”

Stiles smiles. “What for? I forget sometimes that other people have families. I do not know what it is like, but I think they are something to be missed when they are gone.”

“They are,” Derek says quietly. He looks away. “I do not know what came over me.”

Stiles’ thumb moves back and forth once. It feels incredibly nice, and then his touch is gone. “What I am trying to say is I do not mind you telling me about your family. I actually quite like what you have told me so far.”

“I am glad,” Derek says, and he thinks, he hopes that he has been getting closer to his husband. The past few weeks have been lovely, when Derek has not been doing work, but Stiles keeps his distance.

Every night Derek has knocked on Stiles’ door, has said goodnight to him before they have fallen  asleep in different beds. On the days where Stiles has smiled more, has laughed a little louder, Derek sometimes wonders if Stiles will let him in.

He never does.

Derek can wait. Derek can even do without. He would much rather have Stiles here, like this, than not at all.

“Stiles?” comes a voice.

They both turn towards the door and there’s Scott, looking sorry that he interrupted them. Derek stands and smiles, watches the way Stiles takes a breath, his back to his friend.

Then Stiles is up, a wide grin on his face and he looks so different. “Scott!” he says cheerfully. “Did you finish packing your things?”

Scott nods. “There was not much.”

Stiles goes over and slings an arm over Scott’s shoulders, hanging off him a little. Scott laughs, and Derek wonders if he sees how lost Stiles is, or if Stiles really is that good at hiding it. If Derek hadn’t seen him before, he would not know that Stiles is not happy.

“We are going to go for a walk,” Stiles says. “Lord Hale, would you like to join us?”

Derek shakes his head. “I have too much to do. You enjoy your time with Scott before he goes.”

Stiles throws him a grateful look.

“I have something for you, Scott,” Derek says, and he walks back to his desk. He picks up the two books he had set aside for Scott and hands them over. “You mentioned the other night that you were interested in studying medicine. I thought you might like to read these. They are a gift.”

Scott takes them, his eyes widening. “I cannot take these, Lord Hale!” he says, brushing his fingers across the cover.

Stiles snorts. “Take them. Lord Hale is fond of giving his books away.”

Derek glares. “I – I do not give them to everyone.”

Scott speaks up, his smile lopsided. “Thank you, Lord Hale. And thank you for having me here. I am sorry to leave.”

Derek nods, and Stiles grimaces, like he does not want to hear about this.

“Let us go!” he says. “The air outside is calling us.”

Scott laughs, soon forgetting about the books. He follows his friend outside and Derek hears their voices fade. He sighs, not sure how to make Stiles happier even though he wishes he knew how.

**

They are sitting around the dinner table, and Derek is barely listening to the chatter. He keeps his eyes on Stiles, keeps his eyes on Stiles laughing and sharing stories. He almost forgets Scott is leaving, that’s how cheerful Stiles is.

Laura grins as the second course is set in front of them, steam swirling above the food. “I will have to tell Mrs. Richards that this looks wonderful,” she says, and she takes a mouthful as soon as everyone is served.

The soup is a dark red color, tastes of tomatoes and onions. It warms Derek’s stomach. “You cannot forget to thank Miss Reyes,” he says.

Laura raises an eyebrow. “Of course not.”

“Miss Reyes?” Scott asks.

“She is the kitchen maid,” Laura says, and then she gives Derek a stern look. “My brother is quite fond of her.”

Derek says nothing, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Stiles bring a spoonful of soup to his lips. He is smiling, trying to hide it, and Derek longs to know what he is thinking of. Derek looks away, and that is when Stiles coughs.

The sound is loud throughout the room, and Stiles is spluttering. His cheeks have gone red and he reaches for a cup of water, pouring its contents down his throat.

“Stiles?” Laura asks. “What is wrong?”

Stiles places the empty cup on the table, still coughing. He shakes his head, eyelashes fluttering madly over his cheeks. Finally, he sucks in a breath.

“It is nothing,” he says quickly, too quickly. “It went down the wrong way.”

Laura grimaces. “That is never fun,” she says gently. She waves her hand, and a servant is filling Stiles’ cup with water again. He takes it and drinks it almost immediately.

Stiles attempts a smile. “I am fine.”

“Are you sure?” Scott asks him.

Stiles nods. “Yes. Yes, of course I am. Tell me more about Lady Burton’s old dog.”

Scott hesitates, but then he continues with his story. Derek notices the way Stiles does not take another bite of his food, even when they are all served with dessert.

At the end of the meal he says goodnight to Scott with a smile, and as soon as he is gone, as soon as Laura has gone, Stiles seems to crumple. Stiles leans against the wall in the corridor and Derek swears that he is shaking.

“Stiles,” he whispers.

“I’m fine – I’m fine,” he says, gulping in air.

“You are not fine,” Derek says. He reaches out a hand, ever so slowly, giving Stiles all the time in the world he needs to pull away. Derek waits for Stiles to reject his comfort, but it never happens.

“Do not tell Scott this happened,” Stiles says. “Promise me.”

“I think –”

“Promise me,” Stiles repeats, voice gone harsh. Derek takes away his hand, blinking. He nods, even though he does not know what he is promising. “Thank you,” Stiles says.

“Please tell me what is wrong,” Derek says.

Stiles shakes his head. He clears his throat and stands. “I am feeling quite tired,” he says.

Derek does not say a word. Stiles smiles gently at him and takes Derek’s arm before they walk to their rooms. He wonders if Stiles is able to hold his own weight, or if he needs Derek there beside him.

It is hard to tell.

Derek knocks once again on Stiles’ door that night, his thoughts all over the place. Stiles opens the door immediately, as if he was expecting Derek to be there.

“Are you going to knock on my door every night?” he sighs.

Derek stares at him.

“I am not going to suddenly change my mind,” Stiles says, eyes looking tired.

Derek clenches his teeth together, wondering why this is so difficult. Surely, surely Stiles knows that Derek does not want to use him. He only wants to know if Stiles is feeling well after his fit earlier.

“Do you not want me to wish you a goodnight?” Derek asks. He somehow knows that Stiles is trying to make him forget about whatever it is that happened after dinner.

“Are you sure you aren’t just trying to see me in my night clothes?” he says.

Derek’s cheeks burn. He covers his body with his arms, reminded that he too is only in his nightclothes. He keeps his eyes on the floor.

“I was only teasing,” Stiles says quietly. Derek looks up at him. Stiles is playing with the chain around his neck. “Go ahead, Derek. Wish me goodnight.”

Derek keeps his voice soft. “Goodnight, Stiles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the chapter <3 Thank you for reading and for all the kudos and comments. All of your support makes me feel really happy!!
> 
> I hope it also got a little bit interesting towards the end there?? In the beginning notes for the next chapter I will let you know if there is anything you might want to look out for. If you have any questions, feel free to message me on [tumblr](http://matildajones.tumblr.com).
> 
> <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the lovely pale-silver-comb <3
> 
> Just letting you all know that in this chapter there are mentions of how little Stiles eats. Please message me [here](http://matildajones.tumblr.com) if you have any questions!!

Derek stands back and watches Stiles say goodbye to his friend. They barely speak, like they have already exchanged words where no one was watching. Derek looks at his toes when they embrace, genuinely sad to see Scott go.

“He will look after you,” Scott says quietly. He pulls away from Stiles. “I am sure of it.”

Stiles nods and Derek cannot see his face.

Scott turns towards Derek, a beaming smile on his face. “Lord Hale, thank you and your sister for having me here,” he says.

“Of course,” Derek tells him. “You must visit us again.”

“See?” Scott says, grinning. He nudges Stiles in the side, wiggling his eyebrows. He looks a little ridiculous but then Derek hears the faint sound of Stiles’ laughter. “I won’t be gone for long.”

“Uh huh,” Stiles says, turning around. His eyes look brighter than they were a few minutes ago.

“Well, at least now you’ll have so much more time to spend with your husband,” Scott says. Stiles rolls his eyes but his cheeks have gone pink. Derek is happily embarrassed and he stands at Stiles’ side when they wave goodbye to Scott. They wait until the carriage is out of sight, and then Stiles lets out a sigh.

Derek is afraid that Stiles will let himself be miserable so he holds out his hand. Stiles stares at it.

“Take my hand,” Derek asks. Stiles’ lips are parted. “Please.”

“I thought you had work to do,” he says.

“It can wait.”

Derek thinks his fingers are trembling as he waits, hand held out in the air, but Stiles takes a deep breath and links their fingers together. His skin is warm.

“Where are we going?”

“To the gardens,” Derek says, tugging Stiles towards him.

“I  _ do _ like it there,” Stiles says.

Derek grins at him and they walk side by side. He worries that his hand will get sweaty, but other than that it feels nice. Stiles does not pull away from him, even as they walk away from the house and into the cover of the trees.

“It is not the end of the world that Scott is gone,” Stiles says. “I know there are worse things.”

Derek keeps his voice gentle. “You are allowed to miss him.”

He shrugs, but Derek swears his hold tightens as they continue walking. Derek wonders if this means anything, if Stiles cares for him at least a little. Derek almost loses himself in that daydream, half smiling to himself.

He feels Stiles looking at him.

“We are almost at the end of the path,” Stiles says.

“We can go a little further,” Derek says. “We will come out on the other side of the lake, but we’ll have to cut through the trees.”

Stiles grins. “That does not bother me.”

“Then take a left here,” Derek says, and they step off the path. Stiles lets go of Derek’s hand and walks ahead, twigs crunching underneath his feet. Derek walks slower than Stiles, even though he has been through here many times.

Stiles ducks easily under the branches, following the narrow trail made from years of walking through here. He exclaims loudly when he sees a furry animal scurry past and Derek feels at home, here, in the woods.

Then they are at the edge of the trees and in a small field. They see the house from afar, across the lake, and Stiles stops.

“I cannot believe I live there,” he says quietly, gazing at the house standing tall, its reflection shimmering in the lake. Derek moves up to him. He has not known anything different.

Stiles rocks back and forth on his feet. He tucks his hands under his armpits like he is trying to keep them warm. “How long can we stay out here?” he asks. “How long will it be before someone worries about us?”

“I do not know,” Derek says.

“They may think we are up to no good.”

Derek looks over at him. “Are we up to no good?”

Stiles blushes, but meets his eyes. “N-no,” he says, licking his lips. “We are not.”

They keep looking at each other, and Stiles blinks slowly as if he’s taking Derek in. His attention is overwhelming, his cheeks still blotchy and his lips parted like he might speak. Derek swallows, and then he has to look away.

“Stiles,” he says quietly.

He hums.

“I know you probably do not wish to speak of it,” Derek says. He takes a step backwards to create some space between them, just in case Stiles needs it. “But you did not tell Scott what happened after dinner last night.”

Stiles’ expression immediately darkens, and he looks almost panicked. Derek wonders if he should stop talking, but he is  _ worried _ .

“I hope you will tell someone. I hope you will tell me.”

“Your hope is misplaced,” he snaps.

Derek glares.

Stiles looks at him, pleading. “It was nothing. I was surprised. It will not happen again.”

“Surprised by what?”

He does not get an answer. Stiles shakes his head, takes a step forward and almost whines when he speaks. “Please leave it,” he says.

There is a hand on Derek’s arm and Derek cannot think with Stiles so close to him. He lets his eyes fall to Stiles’ lips, hears a plea fall out of them once more.

“Please.”

Derek meets his gaze. “If – if something is wrong then I should not leave it.”

Stiles sighs. “Nothing is wrong.”

“You are lying.”

Stiles turns his head to the side, swallowing hard. He looks determined to leave the conversation where it is, to make Derek give up. Derek is suddenly angry that he has to see Stiles suffer. He is angry that Stiles will not let him do anything to help. His skin itches with it.

“Why can you not see that I care about you?”

“I never asked you to care!”

Derek’s nostrils flare. He almost wants to walk away. “I cannot force you to tell me,” he says through gritted teeth. “But please. Let me make it better.”

Stiles blinks. He reaches for Derek’s hand again, taking him by surprise, and rubs his thumb across Derek’s wedding band. It makes Derek’s heart lurch. “I do not enjoy fighting with you,” he says. “It is my own battle. Please leave it alone.”

Derek lets out a shaky breath. “Stiles.”

“You do not have the answers to everything,” Stiles tells him. “I know you are a Lord, I know you have money, but that does not solve everything. I have never had money and even I know that.”

He tries to hear what Stiles is saying. He wishes Stiles knew that he’s not alone anymore, that he does not have to fight his own battles. He wishes he did have all the answers, but Stiles is right. Derek cannot possibly fix every problem.

He has to trust that Stiles can handle this on his own.

**

In the late afternoon Stiles arrives at the library with a book in hand, looking at Derek hopefully.

“I thought you could help me now,” Stiles says tentatively.

Derek nods. “Yes. Yes. Let me finish these few letters? In the coming weeks we will have a few visitors arrive for business and I must write to them.”

“That sounds very exciting,” Stiles says.

He shakes his head. “I wish it was.”

Stiles chuckles and sits, glancing up at Derek every so often. It distracts him a little too much from his work.

The estate is doing well but it does not hurt to make new investments. Those who will come to visit include people he has met before, as well as a few he has only corresponded with. Derek cannot say he is looking forward to them coming, he would much rather spend more time with his husband.

He rushes the last few letters, eager to sit with Stiles on the sofa. Derek keeps his distance when settling beside him, but he cannot see the book and Stiles shuffles over so that their knees touch. He drags his long fingers across the page.

Stiles frowns. “I am not sure how we should do this.”

“Read to me?”

Stiles nods. He starts to speak, his voice soft and hesitant. He stumbles on more than a few words and gently, Derek corrects his pronunciation. They make it through several pages, and Derek stares resolutely at the words so that his eyes do not linger on Stiles’ face.

Stiles groans. “This is too difficult.”

“Perhaps a different book? Something I read when I was younger?” Derek says, getting up. He finds a battered copy of his favorite novel as a child, hidden carefully away, and presents it to Stiles.

Stiles looks at it sceptically. “Really?”

Derek nods, and pushes the book into Stiles’ hands.

With a sigh, Stiles begins to read, and Derek fears he has already given up. But he is able to read this book more easily, and he tells the tale of a school boy throwing himself into adventures. Stiles grows more confident the more he does not need Derek’s help, and then his voice has gone hoarse.

Stiles rubs his throat. “You are too patient.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t make that many mistakes.”

“I guess,” he says, shrugging. “But you do not want to waste time hearing me read.”

Derek tries to look as unimpressed as possible. “It is hardly a waste of time if I am with you.”

Stiles looks down, seeming almost pleased. The sun has begun to set outside and there is a pink tint to everything in the room.

“It is dinner soon,” Derek says.

“Oh,” says Stiles. His eyebrows have settled in a frown, but he gently closes the book and keeps it on his knees. “Thank you for helping me.”

Derek smiles back at him, feeling light and good and helpful. He stands and holds out his hand like he did earlier in the day, his breath catching when Stiles’ eyes flit up to him. It takes less time for Stiles to place his hand in Derek’s palm.

Derek pulls him up easily. “Would you like to read more tomorrow?” he asks.

Stiles nods, only a foot away. His eyes stay on Derek’s face, and his expression is thoughtful.

“I would like that very much,” he says.

**

When it is time for dinner, Stiles is late.

Derek sighs, hoping to hear Stiles’ footsteps come down the hallway sometime soon. He hopes to see a glimpse of him in one of the new suits Laura had purchased for him, a smile on his face. The minutes pass slowly.

His sister looks at him. “Shall we wait?” Laura says, hands smoothing out her dress. “The food will go cold and I do not think Mrs. Richards will be very happy.”

“I will go and find him,” Derek says. He frowns as he makes his way to the bedrooms and when he knocks on the door Stiles opens it instantly, like he was expecting someone to call on him. He has not yet changed.

Stiles swallows. His hand is gripping the edge of the door.

“Dinner?” Derek asks tentatively.

“I do not feel like it,” he says.

Derek looks at him, a thousand questions on his lips. He wants to know if Stiles is well, if they should go and call for Deaton. Stiles seems to read his mind.

“Scott’s mother is a nurse,” he says. “So I know if I am unwell or not, and I am not. I would just like to stay here.”

Derek bites his tongue. He does not know if he should leave Stiles here, but it has been some time since he shared a meal with only his sister. He’d miss Stiles’ company, but it would be nice to spend an evening alone with Laura. That has not happened for weeks now.

But he does not go. Something is stopping him.

His eyes flit down Stiles’ body, and he is thin, small. Derek pauses.

“You do not eat much,” he says.

Stiles hesitates, his eyelashes beating down on his cheeks. “You noticed?” he says, not denying it. He looks almost like he did the night before, when he could not take another bite of his meal. Derek’s worry grows for him.

“Stiles –”

“I think I just need a good rest tonight,” he says.

Derek wants to insist he eat something, but Stiles is already closing the door to his bedroom. Derek is left standing there, not sure how to feel anything other than concerned. He does not understand how someone cannot eat, not when there is so much food in the house.

“Is Stiles well?” Laura asks when Derek comes back alone.

He does not know how to answer her. Stiles has insisted that he is fine.

“Do we need to call Deaton?” she asks.

Derek shakes his head. “He says that he is tired.”

“If it gets worse then we can ask for him,” she says, squeezing Derek’s arm. He tries to smile back at her.

The next night Stiles comes and eats with them but he has plastered a smile on his face. It fools Laura but Derek is too aware of his husband, of the way his hands barely touch his cutlery. He remembers how little Stiles eats at breakfast too.

He worries Stiles’ behaviour is this way because Scott has left, worries that is why he takes only one or two bites of each course. Derek has barely any idea what to do. He does not know what is wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading <3 The wait for the next chapter shouldn't be too long!!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to pale-silver-comb for being so lovely <3

The piece of paper in Derek’s hands has Stiles’ messy handwriting on it. It is one of his older letters that Derek likes to sometimes read again, but on his desk are a few newer ones. Stiles writes about his day, about the gardens outside and the walks he goes on so that he can improve his spelling.

His skills are not as bad as he thinks they are, but Derek can see how careful, how determined Stiles is when he writes now. Derek likes looking at him then, likes the fierce look in his eyes as he concentrates.

The door to the library swings open. Laura steps through and collapses on the sofa.

“Can you please go downstairs?” she asks, gritting her teeth together.

Derek raises an eyebrow. “What is wrong?”

Laura huffs. “Mrs. Richards is complaining about something. She will not be quiet for one moment so that I can ask her questions and understand what is happening!”

“What do you want me to do?” Derek asks, getting to his feet. When he passes his sister he puts a comforting hand on her shoulder.

She sighs. “Please, just make her be quiet.”

Derek walks down slowly. He is happy to take a break from working, from trying to find the best time for those he corresponds with to visit and talk business with him. He is still worried about Stiles, and he is not sure how to make Stiles eat without his husband hating him.

The closer he gets to the kitchens, the clearer Mrs. Richards’ voice becomes. She is yelling at one of the other servants and no one is doing much to stop her.

Derek clears his throat. “Mrs. Richards, there is no need to raise your voice.”

She turns around and sees Derek, opening her mouth to complain again but Derek glares. She stops yelling and the rest of the servants sigh in relief.

“Now why are you upset?” Derek says.

Miss Reyes pipes up from the corner of the room. She looks far too amused and she grins as she speaks. “Mrs. Richards claims that someone is breaking into the food cupboard.”

Derek frowns.

“Yes,” Mrs. Richards says through clenched teeth. “And I have taken to locking the cupboards but it does not seem to do anything.”

Derek’s eyes scan the room. The servant Mrs. Richards was yelling at looks close to tears and the others seem confused. “Perhaps... it is a rodent?”

He winces as he says it, seeing Mrs. Richard’s eyes flash with anger. “There are no rodents in my kitchen! Someone is stealing.”

“We will catch them,” Derek says quickly. He sees Miss Reyes holding in her laughter and his lip twitches. Mrs. Richards looks like she might start yelling again, but someone takes her aside and promises to make her a hot drink.

Derek sighs. He hasn’t a clue how to solve this problem and wanders over to the food cupboard. He tugs on the handles but they are locked tight.

“A rodent, Lord Hale,” Miss Reyes says. “Really?”

He turns and glares at her. “Well, do you think someone is stealing something?”

Miss Reyes puts her hands behind her back. “Mrs. Richards has the only key and she sleeps with it,” she says. “But perhaps someone knows how to get into the cupboard anyway.”

Derek tugs on the handles again. They do not give way.

“But,” Miss Reyes says, voice low.

He faces her and narrows his eyes. She is looking just past his shoulder, her lips in a pout and Derek thinks she knows exactly what is going on.

“I do know who is eating the food,’ she says, her voice strange.

Derek waits for her to say something else. She doesn’t, and keeps an innocent look on her face. It does not suit her features. “Did you tell Mrs. Richards?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “I do know _who_ ,” she says, sighing. “But I do not know why.”

Derek gives her a tired look. “Miss Reyes, please do not play games with me.”

She smiles. “Lord Hale, do not be silly. Women never play games. Besides, you could easily figure out who is taking the food. In fact, I encourage you to.”

“How?”

Miss Reyes shoots him a sly look. “I am sure you can figure it out.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, irritated. When he opens them again Miss Reyes has already moved away. Derek makes his way out of the kitchen, not sure what to do. He has too much to worry about in his heart, too much to think about now that Stiles barely eats.

His stomach drops.

He stops moving and he wonders if that is really what is happening. He wonders if Stiles is the one to take the food, even though he does not eat at meals. It does not make any sense.

At least he is eating something, Derek thinks. That soothes him a little.

He walks back to the library in a daze. When he arrives Laura looks up at him with a weary expression on her face.

“Did you sort it out?” she asks.

Derek shrugs.

“As long as Mrs. Richards has calmed down,” she mutters.

Derek sits down opposite her. He wonders if he should tell his sister about Stiles, but Stiles wants to act like all of this isn’t even a problem. He finds excuses to leave when Derek attempts to bring it up. He should try harder, he knows, but then he remembers that Stiles never wanted his concern.

**

“Sir,” Boyd says, looking at Derek carefully. “You seem distracted. Is there anything I can do?”

Derek starts to shake his head, but then he remembers that Boyd and Miss Reyes are friendly with each other. He lowers his voice, not wanting Stiles to hear him through the too thin walls. “Did you hear about the person stealing food downstairs?”

Boyd’s lip twitches. “Mrs. Richards can be very loud,” he says.

“Did Miss Reyes tell you who it was?”

Boyd pauses. “No,” he says.

“Did Miss Reyes ask you to lie to me?”

Boyd chuckles. “She did not. She has not told me anything.”

Derek mutters an apology. He hates to accuse his servants of lying to him, but Boyd simply smiles and wishes him a goodnight.

He knocks on Stiles’ door as he does every night, telling him to sleep well. Stiles looks at him with narrowed eyes, expecting Derek to bring up his eating habits again but Derek doesn’t. He relaxes and gives Derek a pretty smile, closing the door between them.

Derek lies awake. He listens out for Stiles, his heartbeat too loud in his chest. He hopes more than anything that it isn’t Stiles who is eating the food. He hopes it is some servant that he can give a warning to or dismiss.

Derek’s eyes start to droop, but then he hears Stiles’ footsteps. He sits up quickly.

He waits for a few minutes, wondering if he should follow. He does not know if Stiles will get mad at him for disrespecting his privacy but he tells himself he has to do something.

He puts a robe on. It is not too cold in the hallways, and he takes a candle to light his way. Everything is dark and strange and his footsteps sound loud when there is no one else about. The stairs to the kitchens creak when he walks down.

“Hello?” someone calls out. There is a flickering light in the kitchens.

Derek takes a deep breath. He recognises Stiles’ voice.

“Stiles,” he says, turning the corner.

His husband swears. Stiles’ face is pale and he almost knocks his plate of food to the floor. The cupboard doors are wide open and Derek closes his eyes. He hates that he was right.

“Please do not be mad at me!”

“I am not mad,” he says softly.

Stiles ducks his head. In the candlelight Derek can barely see his face, but there might be tears in his eyes. Derek takes a step closer.

“Mrs. Richards was wondering who was eating her food.”

Stiles lets out a broken laugh. He wipes his hands over his eyes.

Derek frowns when he looks at Stiles’ plate. “You are eating leftover dinner.”

“Well, I am hungry,” Stiles says. He sniffs and sits down on a stool. He pushes his plate of food away from him, and it skids across the table.

“I was starting to think you did not like the dinner we serve.”

Stiles shakes his head. His eyes look dead, tired.

“Stiles?”

He looks around with frantic eyes, but there is nothing to see in the half light of the room. “It is just, um, sometimes my appetite comes and goes. I do not know how to help it.”

“Would you like me to call for the doctor?”

He shakes his head again. “It is not – not that. I do not like eating around other people.” His hands clench and unclench. Derek wants to hold him close, wants to pull Stiles to him and offer him comfort. “I get – I get nervous. And I worry. Just in case. It is easier this way.”

“What do you worry about?” Derek asks.

Stiles looks down. He keeps quiet, and a tear drops from his eyes.

“How did you know to come down here?” Stiles says, he clears his throat and stares up at Derek. His jaw is set and his nostrils flare, like he is determined to leave this be.

Derek shrugs. “Miss Reyes –”

Stiles glares. “Erica promised not to tell.”

“She did not tell me it was you. She said I ought to find out for myself.” Derek is at the other side of the table to Stiles, and he searches around for another chair. He places his candle on the table and sits down. Stiles looks up at him in surprise. His eyelashes look wet, dark.

“Oh.”

“Do you – do you call her by her name?”

“Erica?” Stiles says, looking sheepish.

Derek says nothing.

“I do not call all the servants by their first names,” Stiles mutters. Derek can barely hear him. “Only the ones who are nice to me.”

“Boyd is nice,” Derek says.

“Yes,” Stiles says. “But I think Boyd suits him very well and he refuses to tell me his name. Erica swears she does not know it either, but I think she is lying.”

Derek smiles.

Stiles looks at him tentatively. “I do not mind if you are here with me. Do you want some food as well?”

Derek hopes this is the best way to get Stiles to eat as much as possible, so he nods. Stiles stands and walks to the cupboard. He takes out some cheeses and bread and puts it on a plate in front of Derek.

“Thank you,” Derek says.

Stiles smiles shyly, and he takes the smallest bite of his food.

“Mrs. Richards will be upset that twice as much food has gone,” Derek says.

A nice pink settles over Stiles’ cheeks, and Derek can even see it in the dark. “Perhaps I should stop.”

Derek shakes his head quickly. “No,” he says. “I will go and tell her it was me.”

Stiles stops and he sticks out his chin in surprise. “You don’t need to do _that_ ,” he says.

“I do not mind. I will tell her I was too embarrassed to admit it earlier.”

Stiles’ lips turn up and he looks lighter for a moment, lighter and like he does not have anything to worry about. He grins and here, in the kitchen, he eats more than he normally does. Derek does not think it is enough, but he stays quiet and tries to enjoy Stiles’ company.

“How did you open the cupboard?” Derek asks, licking the crumbs from his lips.

“I may know how to pick locks,” he admits. Stiles looks sheepish but Derek does not care. He has no idea where someone learns a skill like that, but it does not really matter here. All of this belongs to Stiles anyway.

Derek stands and clears the food when they are finished, and he waits by the door with his candle in hand. Stiles takes his own candle and stands near Derek. This close, his skin looks lovely, warm in the flickering light, and Derek thinks he is beautiful.

He has to turn around and he begins to walk. Stiles follows him down the corridors and Derek can feel his husband’s eyes on his back.

“I am not tired,” Stiles calls out when they reach their rooms.

Derek looks over his shoulder.

“Are – are you?”

Derek shakes his head. He stares at Stiles a moment before the strangest idea takes hold in his head. He takes a breath. “Do you want to dance?”

Stiles laughs quietly. The smile drops from his face when he sees that Derek is quite serious.

“Now?”

“Yes.”

Stiles bites his lip and nods. Derek smiles gratefully and opens the door to his bedroom, noticing Stiles’ nervousness. He has never been in here before and he looks around, eyes scanning the wide room and lingering on the bed for a beat too long.

“There is no music,” Stiles says.

“Does it really matter?” Derek says. He takes the candle from Stiles and puts his own one down with it. He holds out his hands.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “ _Yes_.”

“I disagree.”

“Of course you do,” Stiles says, but he reaches out, and Derek gets to pull Stiles close again. It is strange that there is no music but Derek does not care, liking the way Stiles shivers when Derek places a hand on his waist. Derek is wearing his robe but Stiles is only in his night clothes. It is almost like touching skin.

Stiles lets out a sigh. It sounds tired, and then his body sags against Derek. They are alone, barely dancing, but it feels right.

“Derek,” Stiles says after a few minutes, lifting his head. Derek stills and Stiles looks like he has forgotten what he was going to say.

Derek swallows. His fingers quiver against Stiles’ clothes, and then, then Stiles is leaning forward. He can feel Stiles’ warm breath on his lips, can almost taste him, but then just as quickly Stiles pulls away and Derek tries to chase his lips.

His heart trips over itself and Stiles makes an embarrassed noise, hiding his face against Derek’s chest.

Derek tries to keep his breathing steady, but it is too hard to. That was almost a kiss, almost a brush of lips but not quite. He tries not to feel disappointed.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” Stiles says.

Derek pauses, closing his eyes. “What does it say?”

Stiles stills in his arms, and he knows what Derek is saying. He knows that Derek cares, that Derek’s heart feels something, feels something strong for Stiles.

Slowly, slowly, Stiles pulls back. He stares at Derek, his whole body trembling. Derek wonders if he was too honest.

Stiles clears his throat, and then he takes a step back. “Sorry,” he says.

Derek shakes his head. “You do not need to apologise.”

“Good,” he says, and then a yawn escapes his mouth. His steps are careful as he walks backwards, towards the door to his room. His hand scrambles for the handle. “Goodnight,” he says. “Thank you for tonight.”

Derek nods. “If you want my company in the kitchens again, please, let me know.”

Stiles ducks his head. “Sure,” he says, and then he disappears into his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :) :) I'm very happy that you all are still here!!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the wonderful pale-silver-comb <3

Stiles still refuses to tell Derek exactly what is wrong, why it is so hard to eat with other people present. When Derek attempts to ask him about it, Stiles pales. His lips press tight together and he refuses to speak.

Other times he smirks, a self-deprecating look in his eye as he tells Derek that there is nothing wrong, that Derek is imagining things.

Derek knows he needs to choose his battles. He does not want Stiles to be uncomfortable by his questions; he does not want Stiles to resent him or his concern.

He listens out for Stiles at night when he heads to the kitchens, footsteps treading lightly on the floor. There is a persistent ache in Derek’s chest and he cannot fall asleep until Stiles returns to his bedroom and Derek knows he has eaten.

Stiles does not ask for Derek’s company. Perhaps he does not like the way Derek looks at him, like something _needs_ to be done.

At breakfast Stiles sighs. He rolls his eyes and pointedly takes a piece of bread from the basket in the middle of the table. He takes a large bite.

Derek looks down.

His throat moves when he swallows. “I am fine, Derek,” he says. “Just fine.”

Derek bites his lip, not sure what to say. He settles on changing the subject. “We will have a visitor here in the next few days, a Mr. Weston.”

Stiles frowns.

“Do you know of him?” Derek asks.

“His name sounds familiar,” he says slowly.

“He will be staying several days. I have been writing to him for the past few weeks,” Derek says.

Stiles nods, grinning slightly. “So he is the reason why I do not get to see as much of you as I would like?”

Derek feels a flush at the back of his neck. He nods even though he spends as much of his time as possible with his husband, helping him read, helping him write. They often take walks through the gardens together and sometimes Laura joins them.

“Have you seen Laura this morning?” Derek asks.

“Yes. She asked if I wanted to go with her to the town this morning,” Stiles says.

Derek raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Did you accept?”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course I accepted her invitation. Why wouldn’t I?”

Derek shrugs.

“Are you sad you are not invited?” Stiles teases.

“No.”

Stiles grins.

“I am glad that you two like each other’s company,” Derek says seriously. It is everything he could have hoped for, and as much as he doesn’t want to spend the whole day working he is glad that Stiles and Laura will spend some time together.

The day moves along slowly. The house seems quiet even with the servants walking through to bring him things. Derek tries his best to ignore Miss Blake when she enters the library to clean. Derek hates the look she gets on her face when they are alone, it makes him feel uneasy but he does not know what he is supposed to do about it.

Dinner passes by without incident. Laura tells him about her outing with Stiles, and sometimes Stiles laughs as she tells her stories.

“All the people in this town are very nice,” Laura says.

“They have to be nice to you,” Stiles says.

Laura grins. “I like to think they would be nice to me anyway. I am a lovely young lady.”

“I can think of a few moments where that was not true,” Derek says, grinning. Then he tells Stiles stories of their childhood, of outings with their parents and of Laura as a child running around screaming and – and Derek forgets to see how much Stiles eats.

He hates that it slipped his mind.

Stiles is the one to knock on his door that evening, to say goodnight. Derek opens the door and he is met with Stiles’ face. His cheeks are a deep, deep red, and he barely looks Derek in the eye.

“Stiles?”

Stiles lets out a breath. It sounds harsh in the air.

Derek reaches forward. “Are you unwell? Do you have a fever?”

He shakes his head, teeth gritted together. “No,” he says.

Derek stops. He stands there, noticing that the flush has spread down Stiles’ neck. Stiles is fiddling with the chain around his neck like it is a lifeline.

“I –” He looks at up at the ceiling. He opens and closes his mouth but he seems to give up. “Never mind. It does not matter. Goodnight, Derek.”

Stiles starts to close the door but Derek’s hand shoots out before he can. “What is wrong? Are you sure you are not sick?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Derek, I am fine. Honestly. Sorry for worrying you.”

Derek frowns, but this time he lets Stiles close the door.

He lies in bed and listens, trying to hear if Stiles walks down to the kitchens. Derek is worried when he hears nothing, not a single footstep, and he tries to fight the wave of tiredness that hits him.

He turns over and he can feel his breathing slowing, his eyes starting to droop. He does not know how much time has passed.

Derek thinks he might be dreaming when he hears muffled noises coming from Stiles’ room. It doesn’t sound like much and he finds himself ignoring it, ignoring the breathy groans that he can hear. He does not know what it is.

Then there is a loud bang and Derek jolts awake. He hears Stiles swear loudly, and a sweat breaks out on Derek’s skin. His mind is in a daze as he gets to his feet, still half asleep, and he rushes through the door separating their rooms without bothering to knock.

“Stiles? Are you alright?” he says, urgent, his eyes adjusting to the dark.

“ _Derek_!”

He blinks. He blinks again and his blood boils when he sees too much skin. Stiles is there, naked on the bed, spread out over the sheets and Derek cannot think. He has never seen someone so exposed, never seen a body so lean.

Stiles immediately tries to hide himself. Derek cannot take his eyes off Stiles’ skin, pale and beautiful, his thighs open, and Derek’s whole body feels warm.

“Derek,” Stiles says again, hissing. The sheet is now draped over him but it is too late, Derek has seen everything.

It is then that he finally seems to wake up.

“I’m sorry – sorry,” Derek stutters, shaking his head and taking a step back. His eyes flutter madly around the room, trying not to look at Stiles, look at him where he was _touching_ himself. Instead he sees a similar vial of oil to the one in his own room on the bedside table.

Derek is mortified. Stiles is glaring at him, and he stumbles away, kicking the heel of his foot on the open door. He hisses in pain.

“What the hell are even you doing here?” Stiles asks, half yelling and his voice half gone. Neither of them can look each other in the eye and neither of them knows what to do.

“I’m sorry, I thought something was wrong – I’ll go, I’ll just go,” Derek says, rushing backwards. He slams the door behind him and then collapses onto the bed.

He’s hard, his blood throbbing in his veins. He buries his face in his pillow and he cannot get the image of Stiles out of his head, and Derek feels so _stupid._ Of course he was pleasuring himself, of course he was, and of course Stiles would rather do it alone than with Derek.

He rolls his hips against the mattress a little, moaning softly at the brief relief. But then he feels immediately guilty, and that forces Derek to stop.

He can hear Stiles pacing next door, muttering to himself loudly. He sounds angry.

Derek does not cry often, but he feels tears prickling at his eyes. He did not want to embarrass Stiles or himself, and he feels guilty for getting aroused at the sight of his husband when clearly Stiles doesn’t want him like that.

His body feels heavy and awful the next morning. He has barely slept, too worked up, too embarrassed, and he gets dressed long before he needs to.

He is quiet at breakfast, barely answering when Laura asks him questions. Then the door opens and Derek catches a glimpse of Stiles at the edge of the room. He immediately flushes and remembers Stiles’ body, Stiles wearing no clothes at all.

Derek drops his head. He does not think he can look at his husband. He does not want to see the horror there, the betrayal on his face at Derek’s unannounced appearance.

He wanted to give Stiles time; he did not want it all to happen like this.

Stiles sits opposite him. Derek can hear him breathing but he says nothing. There’s about a minute of silence before Laura looks up from her food, staring at them strangely.

“Are you sure you slept well?” she asks, peering at Derek.

He can’t even be here long enough to answer that. Derek pushes his seat back, eyes focused on the door. “I need to send another letter to Mr. Weston.”

He stumbles out of the room, sweat on his neck.

“What is wrong with him today?” he hears Laura say.

“I do not have a clue,” Stiles replies, and his voice sounds annoyed.

He spends the rest of the day avoiding Stiles’ eye and finding an excuse to leave the room whenever Stiles comes in. Derek does not know why he is doing this, why he can’t seem to face his husband.

Every time he sees Stiles, thinks of Stiles, he remembers the night before. He remembers what he should not have seen, the creamy look to his skin and the moles Derek swears he saw over Stiles’ ribs. Every time he thinks of his husband he feels guilt wash over him.

He should not be thinking of Stiles like this. Stiles has already rejected him. It may sting but Derek shouldn’t let his mind wander.

Derek does not knock on Stiles’ door that night. Stiles does not try and wish him goodnight either.

Time passes, Derek stays wide awake, and then Stiles is making those noises again, deliberately loud, and Derek knows exactly what it means now. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to think about it, biting his cheek and trying not to give in and do the same thing.

The groans and moans and the swearing do not last as long as Derek thinks they will. Derek sighs when Stiles suddenly goes quiet, but his relief is short lived – he hears footsteps and the door swings open.

He bursts into Derek’s room, still in his night clothes. Derek hides his face in his pillow.

“Why won’t you look at me?” Stiles yells.

Derek breathes out. His fingers are trembling and he carefully sits on the edge of the bed, ears heating up and his eyes on the floor. He can see Stiles’ bare feet.

“Derek!”

“I am _embarrassed_ ,” Derek hisses.

“Well so am I! I am the one you saw with no clothes on,” Stiles says. He lowers his voice. “I was the one you saw _naked_. Why were you even in there?”

“I thought something was wrong,” Derek mumbles.

He can feel Stiles glaring at him. “Well there wasn’t _anything_ wrong,” Stiles says back, voice harsh. “In fact it was going quite well until you showed up.”

Derek winces. He says nothing.

“It is completely natural!” Stiles says, voice going hysterical.

“I know,” Derek stutters. He does not know why they are still talking about this. He wants to pretend it never happened. He wants it to go back to the way it was before, and even though they never touched each other it was better than this.

It was better than Stiles being angry and Derek unable to show his face.

“Don’t tell me you don’t do it,” Stiles hisses.

Derek flushes again, angling his body away from Stiles. He squeezes his knees together and tries not to think about _any_ of the times he has given in to that. Recently all he has thought of is Stiles and he clearly shouldn’t be doing that.

“Well?” Stiles demands.

“Only when I can’t help it,” Derek admits quietly.

Stiles places his hands on his hips, muttering under his breath. He seems so tall here, standing over Derek’s bed. Derek can feel his glare, feel his anger and Derek didn’t want to upset him or make him feel uncomfortable. Stiles can do what he wants.

Derek is the stupid one. He is the one who didn’t knock, who didn’t realise what those sounds meant.

“Look at me.”

Derek shakes his head.

“Derek, I swear, you had better look at me right now,” Stiles says, and Derek keeps his eyes on the floor. He cannot look at Stiles, cannot look at him or Derek will see him how he was last night. Derek won’t be able to hide how much he _feels_ , how much he wants.

Stiles huffs, and Derek thinks he is about to leave but Stiles reaches for his own shirt. He unbuttons it hastily.

“What are you doing?”

“Why don’t you take a look?”

Derek makes a small noise as Stiles throws his shirt to the floor. Then Stiles’ fingers slip past his hip bones and into the fabric of his pants, ready to take them off too.

Derek tries his best to breathe. He wants Stiles to _stop._

“Look at me.”

“But you – you aren’t wearing a shirt.”

He can feel Stiles’ smirk.

“I have never – I don’t, I have never seen a naked man before,” Derek whispers, covering his face.

“Yes you have,” Stiles says. “Last night.”

Derek blushes again.

“Oh my God, Derek, just look at me. I’m your _husband_.”

Derek says nothing. He knows that barely means anything here.

“I am sick of you judging me! I have my reasons for doing this,” Stiles says, words stuttering a little. “I am not hurting anyone.”

It’s then, that Derek looks up, past his husband’s naked chest. He stares at Stiles’ face. “I am not judging you.”

Stiles snorts.

“I am sorry for not knocking,” Derek says. Stiles’ face is hard.

“That is not what I want you to apologize for,” Stiles says.

Derek breathes in, and he cannot help it, his eyes flick downwards. There are beautiful moles all over Stiles’ body and the jut of his collarbone is striking. His nipples are pink, hard in the cool air, and there is a thick trail of hair down to his pants.

Derek looks back at Stiles’ face. Derek cannot hide his arousal.

“Stiles,” he says, wetting his lips.

“I’m not – this does not mean I am going to just, you know,” Stiles says, finally looking at the floor.

“I know,” Derek says, voice low. He pauses. “I am sorry for ignoring you.”

“Do not do it again,” Stiles says. There is a soft whine to his voice like he is _begging_ for it, like this has happened all too many times before and he cannot have Derek do it to him too. “If you are embarrassed, just _talk_ to me. Please.”

Derek nods, and then Stiles picks up his shirt from the floor. He barely glances over his shoulder as he leaves and Derek covers his face with his hands, feeling his fingers shake.

It was too much. No one has ever been that tempting, no one has ever felt so right to admire before. It was like some kind of religious experience having Stiles bare himself to Derek, but it was all wrong.

It was not the way Derek wanted, and it was not the way it should have been.

He should not have ignored Stiles; he should not have made Stiles worry.

There are tears rolling down his cheeks before he realizes that they’re there. He doesn’t know what he is feeling and he doesn’t understand how he can feel it so much. How he can look at one man and want more than he has ever wanted before.

Derek does not move. He can barely think, barely breathe. He doesn’t know how long he sits there, staring at nothing, a noise in his ears that won’t go away. He startles when Stiles edges his way into the room again.

“Derek?” he whispers, taking a careful look at him.

“I am sorry,” Derek chokes out. “You must hate being looked at like that.”

Stiles pauses. His face looks soft and he tentatively sits on the edge of the bed. Derek gives him as much space as he can. “Derek, I did not hate it. No one has ever looked at me like that before.”

Derek has his eyes closed, and he waits a moment before he can meet Stiles’ gaze.

“I liked it,” Stiles whispers. “The way you look at me. But I am not – I am scared. I am not ready.”

He nods back. “I – perhaps I am not ready either. I have never felt like this, and I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“Feel like what?” Stiles says, fiddling with his fingers. He looks shy, but everything seems to have calmed. They are both speaking slowly, carefully, and it is not so bad.

“Like I am hot all over,” Derek says, and he sees Stiles shiver at the end of the bed. Their eyes meet and there is the most delicate silence Derek has ever heard. Stiles’ hands are gripping the bed sheets and Derek thinks he has said too much. “Sorry,” he says.

Stiles looks at him. “No,” he says. “No. Do not apologise. Not about this.”

Derek says nothing.

“Are you feeling better now?” Stiles asks. “You looked quite panicked just before.”

“I do not know,” Derek says. “I do not know anything. That is why – even if you let me touch you I would not know what to do.”

Stiles smiles lightly. “It is not so hard – people have been doing it for thousands of years.”

“No,” Derek says. “I would want to do it _right_ by you. It is different.” He sighs. “It does not matter.”

“You can ask me questions,” Stiles says. “I know more than I ought to. You are always helping me – I want to help you.”

Derek cannot believe what he is hearing, but he shakes his head. He does not think he can handle that conversation.

“Why now?” he finally says, voice awkward. “I have not heard you do... that... before.”

“Oh,” Stiles says nervously. His face has gone pink again. “Mr. Meadows said to m- that is, I overheard him say that he knows we have not been together yet. He knows we have not yet consummated our marriage.”

Derek frowns.

“The bed sheets have been clean,” Stiles explains, and then he continues hesitantly. “I thought I would take care of it. Make it look like we had been together.”

“Oh,” Derek says. He hates that the servants know so much about his life.

“If you are unsatisfied you could get a mistress,” Stiles says quietly. Derek gives him the dirtiest look he can manage. “Or not!” he says, and Derek thinks he looks a little pleased. “I want – I want to stay married to you. That is why I did it. I do not want something so small to potentially tear us apart.”

“You want to be married to me?”

“Yes,” Stiles says adamantly. “Yes.”

Derek’s heart has calmed down. That was more than Stiles was willing to say when Derek first proposed, and it is more than Derek thought he would ever get.

“Why do you worry?” he asks. “The servants would not say anything to ruin our marriage. They may like to _gossip_ ,” Derek grits out, not wanting to think about what they may say to each other, “But they would not do something like that.”

Stiles smiles sadly, shrugging. “There is nothing wrong with being careful.”

Derek does not understand why he says that, but then he sees Stiles yawn.

“Time to sleep,” he says quietly.

Stiles grins at him. “I think so,” he says. “Goodnight.”

Derek says it back softly and then Stiles’ hand slides across the sheets, gently squeezing Derek’s knee before he leaves.

Derek sighs.

As honest and raw as that was, and as guilty as Derek still feels, he thinks he can breathe now. He even feels better now. It had been nice them talking, just talking, in the safety of his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been hesitating to post this chapter, but I hope you all like it anyway <3
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to pale-silver-comb :)

Derek dresses slowly the next morning. His heart is still shaky from the night before, worried that he gave too much of himself away.

At breakfast his appetite is gone until Stiles enters the room. Derek holds his breath as he locks onto Stiles’ warm eyes, letting his gaze linger. He wants his husband to know that Derek will never ignore him again.

Stiles looks a little relieved. “Good morning,” he says quietly. There is a smile on his lips.

Derek exhales. He knows his cheeks are pink but he is not nearly as embarrassed as he was the day before. He can look at Stiles now, look at him and remember how beautiful he was.

It helps that they had talked. Derek is very grateful that Stiles gave him that.

“Did you sleep well?” Derek asks.

“Well enough,” Stiles says, sitting down.

Derek nods. He is tired himself, barely able to sleep even after Stiles had returned to his own room. He is still upset that he did not treat Stiles well enough, that he was almost as worse as the other men Stiles has encountered.

Stiles gives him a soft look, and with it Derek feels more comfortable.

He is glad Stiles does not hate him.

Laura joins them and they eat until there is a knock on the door. A servant steps through and Stiles goes quiet, shoulders hunching as the servant hands Derek a letter.

Derek opens it slowly, the room too quiet when the servant leaves. “It is from Lord Stilinski,” he says.

Laura smiles instantly. “What does he say?”

His brow furrows when he reads the words on the sheet of paper, and he can feel Stiles looking at him. “He will be in the city next week. He wants me to do business with him there,” Derek says.

Stiles blinks. “Are you going to leave?”

“It would only be for a few days.”

Stiles clenches his jaw together. “But – but we have a visitor coming tomorrow. Why do you have to go away?”

“I am trying to do business with more than one person,” Derek says. “I do not spend all of my time in the library for nothing.”

Stiles frowns and stares at the far wall. Derek waits for him to say something but all Stiles does is push his breakfast plate away.

Laura looks at them both. “I will still be here,” she says. Stiles smiles at her, but his lip wobbles. “And Derek will not be gone for long.”

“I know,” Stiles says. “But do you really have to go?”

Derek swallows. He could write to back and say that he has other commitments, but it wouldn’t be the truth and Lord Stilinski has always been friendly to Derek’s family.

He gives Stiles an apologetic smile. “I will make sure to write to you when I am gone.”

Stiles’ eyes are dim under his eyelashes, but he returns Derek’s smile.

Derek is unsure when he gets to his feet, letter in hand. He walks slowly to the library knowing he does not want to leave here either. He cannot know if Stiles is well if he is miles away. He cannot know if Stiles is eating as much as he should or if he’s as happy as he deserves to be.

He places the letter on his desk, and he does not reply just yet.

**

“Have you met Mr. Weston before?” Stiles asks, hands behind his back. The air is hot as they wait for their guest to arrive and the afternoon sun shines on Stiles’ eyes.

Derek shrugs. “I do not think so. But I know others who have done business with him.”

“Oh.”

There is a small frown on his face. Derek wants to question it but then they see a carriage in the distance, coming closer with every passing second. Stiles is watching it carefully.

They hear a loud laugh moments before a man steps out of the carriage. A sudden grin appears on his face when he sees Derek and he holds out his hand.

Derek shakes it. Mr. Weston’s grip is firm.

“Lord Hale!” he says. “Good to finally meet you.”

“Mr. Weston.”

He looks around, eyes squinting in the sunlight. He nods approvingly at the house and Derek cannot tell if he should like this man. He does not like the way Mr. Weston pauses when his eyes fall on Stiles.

“Is that your new husband?” he says. He takes a step closer.

“Yes.” Derek says. Stiles is looking away.

“The _orphan_.”

Mr. Weston does not wait for an introduction and he walks forward, dragging his eyes over Stiles’ body. Derek bristles.

“Well,” he says, a glint in his eye. “Isn’t it a pleasure to meet you?”

Stiles says nothing.

“Are you not going to greet me?” Mr. Weston says. “I am sure we will become very familiar with each other here.”

Stiles’ breath hitches, and his hands clench by his sides. He turns his sharp gaze towards Mr. Weston, and it is a look Derek has not seen from Stiles in a long time. It reminds him of the night they met.

“I think the only person you will be getting familiar with is my husband,” Stiles says. “I have far better things to do than listen to you both talk business.”

A dark looks passes over their guest’s face. Derek tries his best not to glare at Stiles, not wanting this deal over before it has even begun.

Stiles smiles coldly at them both and turns on his heel. Derek stares after him.

Mr. Weston lets out a low whistle. “You married well.”

Derek narrows his eyes. “I could not have done better.”

“Oh, I am sure,” he says.

Derek does not know what to make of that. He stares at Mr. Weston, taking in his too handsome features and the way he keeps his hands in his pockets. He wonders why Stiles ran off.

“Please excuse me,” Derek finally says.

“Of course.”

Derek asks a servant to take Mr. Weston to the library and he rushes after Stiles. He finds him leaning against one of the walls in the hallway, sucking in breaths. He swears and gets to his feet when he notices Derek hovering there.

“Derek,” he says.

“Why did you run off?”

Stiles presses his lips together. “That is not what I did.”

“Is it because he called you an orphan?” Derek asks, taking a careful step closer.

He shrugs. “That is what I am. It makes no difference if he says it or if you say it.”

Derek stares. He hates the way Stiles refuses to look him in the eye, and he is starting to regret inviting Mr. Weston to his home.

Stiles lets out a sigh. “I – I thought it might be best if I get out of your way. You can talk with Mr. Weston, and I won’t be annoying you by sitting at the edge of the room and trying to read a book.”

“Stiles,” he says, voice low. “You know that you are never an annoyance.”

He splutters. “Well, maybe today I would be. I know nothing about your complicated business plans and investments.”

Derek is suddenly irritated. He wants to know why Stiles won’t look at him, and he wants to know why Stiles is comfortable with being rude to their guest.

“Do you not care that I have been working on this investment with Mr. Weston for weeks?”

Stiles shrugs.

“You do what you want, then,” Derek says.

“I will.”

Derek wonders if Stiles is acting this way because Derek may be leaving next week, but perhaps he just does not care enough about the work Derek tries to do.

“But I expect to see you at dinner.”

He regrets it as soon as he says it and Stiles laughs darkly, his eyes sharp when they settle on Derek’s face.  “Do you, now?”

Derek does not reply, and he does not take his words back.

“Do not knock on my door tonight,” Stiles says.

He goes cold. Derek watches Stiles walk away and then he slowly makes his way towards the library. He finds Mr. Weston there, a glass of whisky already in his hand. The man grins widely.

“Shall we start?”

**

Stiles arrives at dinner with a less than friendly expression on his face. The only person he talks to politely is Laura, and even she is confused at how harsh Stiles’ words are towards everyone else.

“Are you enjoying the meal?” she asks.

Mr. Weston chews loudly. “Yes, yes,” he says. He looks over at Stiles’ plate. “I do not think he is, though.”

Stiles takes in a breath. “Maybe our company is sufficiently off-putting that I cannot bring myself to eat.”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Laura says. Stiles only shrugs, a bit of pink on his cheeks. He does not look at any of them and Derek has never seen him so mad, so unhappy.

Mr. Weston’s mouth twists into a smile. “No, no it is alright. We cannot expect these orphan types to be civilised.”

Stiles seems to be vibrating in his skin and Derek does not know how he can possibly smooth this over. He meets his sister’s gaze and even though they are only halfway through their meal she stands up.

“Derek, why don’t you go and entertain Mr. Weston with a game of cards?” she says. “I am sure he will enjoy that.”

“Yes, in a moment,” he says.

Mr. Weston smiles graciously and lets Laura lead him out of the room. Her smile is thin.

Derek waits until all the servants have left the room. It is quiet and Stiles does not look at him.

“Was that necessary?” Derek asks.

Stiles licks his lips. “Are you embarrassed?”

Derek stares at him helplessly. He does not deny it.

“Are you embarrassed to have an orphan for a husband?” he asks slowly. “Your new friend certainly seems to have a problem with it.”

“I do not care if you are an orphan,” Derek says. “You know that.”

“Other people do.”

“And you are not doing yourself any favours,” Derek snaps. Stiles jumps in his chair. He does not look so brave anymore, but Derek keeps on going. “I know Mr. Weston is not the nicest man, but please stop saying such terrible comments. You could try and respect the guest I am trying to do business with.”

Stiles leans forward. His voice is harsh, unkind. “Respect? Yes, Derek, enlighten me. Is that something we all get or are people like me just the exception?”

Derek sighs. “You think everyone is against you.”

Stiles closes his eyes, throat moving as he swallows. Derek feels like he has pushed Stiles away more than he needs to but he says nothing when Stiles gets up to leave. His heart jumps when Stiles slams the door.

He is distracted when he is finally playing cards with Mr. Weston. Laura looked unhappy when she left them alone together and Derek is sure he mirrored her expression.

Mr. Weston laughs when he wins yet another hand. Derek is losing money quickly, but he cannot bring himself to care.

He wants to talk with Stiles. He wants to make things better again.

Mr. Weston waves his empty glass in the air, chuckling as he counts his money. Derek sighs and waits as Boyd comes over and pours some more whisky for Mr. Weston.

“Sir?” he asks.

Derek shakes his head. He does not want any more alcohol; he wants sleep and he wants his husband not to hate him.

Boyd nods and stands at the edge of the room. The evening is getting quite late and he does not need to stay, but Derek is glad Boyd is there. The more time he spends with Mr. Weston the more he dislikes him.

“Your husband is quite something, isn’t he?”

Derek says nothing.

“Have you ever wondered why he is so good in bed?” he says, eyes flashing blue as he leans in close. “Man to man, if you can get rid of him, do it. He’s a whore. Opened that mouth up for me, and right away too.”

Derek flicks his eyes up. “I think I have had enough playing,” he says.

Mr. Weston laughs. “Understandable,” he says, standing. “You weren’t doing so well.”

Derek stands too, blood pounding against his skin. This is one of the men who told Stiles he was worth nothing. This is one of the men Stiles is afraid Derek is like, is afraid all men are like. This is one of the men that has hurt Stiles and has made him too wary of the world.

Derek does not think twice. He punches him and feels satisfied when he hears something break. Boyd is between them in an instant, his large body preventing Mr. Weston from retaliating.

“Get out,” seethes Derek, his chest heaving. Mr. Weston is drunk, dazed, and there is blood pouring out of his nose, but he manages to insult Derek heartily before he leaves.

Boyd looks carefully at Derek before he leads the man away, far away, and Derek sags onto the sofa. His hand is throbbing.

Boyd returns fifteen minutes later.

“He is taken care of, sir.”

“Thank you, Boyd,” Derek sighs. “Did you hear what he said to me?”

“No, sir, but I am sure your actions were justified.”

Derek gives him a weak smile. “I will dress myself for bed.”

Boyd nods and starts to clean the whisky that had spilled onto the carpet. Derek walks slowly to his room, his head spinning and his hand aching. When he gets there he stumbles towards Stiles’ door and presses his forehead to the wood.

He lets out a shaky breath. “Stiles?” he calls out. Derek knocks even though Stiles told him not to.

Derek knocks again, more insistently, needing to make things right. No one answers him and if he listens carefully he can hear the sound of shaky sobs through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading <3 I am sorry for the wait. Just know that in the next chapter there are a few things I need to change, but it is 90% written. I'll try not to leave you all hanging for too long ;)
> 
> Even though I haven't updated I have been doing a lot of writing, so... hopefully updates will come a little quicker. You guys are the best :) :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to pale-silver-comb for being super helpful <3
> 
> I would like to let you all know that a part of the chapter might be a bit upsetting :( It is only brief, but please check the end notes for more details if you think you need to.

Derek knocks on Stiles’ door in the morning as well. He hears Stiles’ footsteps come up to the door and Derek waits, waits for too long for him to open it. He is left disappointed when Stiles does not let him in.

He waits at breakfast for Stiles to join them, but his seat remains empty. Derek stares at it with his eyes glazed over, wishing he had simply asked Stiles what was wrong.

“What happened to your hand?”

Derek blinks, and he feels Laura’s cool fingers on his wrist. He looks down and sees his bruised skin, full of purples and yellows. Laura looks horrified and Derek shrugs.

“Mr. Weston is no longer our guest here,” he says.

“Derek.”

He clenches his teeth together. “He and Stiles have met before.”

Laura purses her lips, taking her hand away from Derek’s. “Your husband was rather rude last night, Derek.”

Derek glares at her. “Yes. He was. And I was worse when I punched our guest in the face and then threw him out of our house.”

She swallows. “What happened?

“I cannot tell you,” he says. “Stiles would not want me to tell you.”

“But –”

“Just know that Mr. Weston is a vile man and I never want him here again,” Derek says, looking at his sister. Her eyes flit over his face, searching for something, and when she finds it she nods.

“If that is what you want,” Laura says, smiling weakly at him. “Is Stiles alright?”

He shakes his head. “Laura... I – I was angry with him and I –”

Derek cuts himself off and his chest feels hollow. He wants Stiles to trust him, to feel comfortable here again. Derek wonders if he has lost Stiles’ affection forever.

Laura reaches out and presses her palm to Derek’s cheek. She forces him to look at her. “Derek,” she says. “I trust your judgement, and if you say Mr. Weston is not a kind man then I believe it. You are the best brother I could have asked for, and you are a wonderful husband. Stiles knows that.”

His lips feel dry. “But he is not here. He is not with us.”

“Give him some time,” she says. “Now, would you like me to send for Deaton? Your hand looks quite sore.”

Derek stretches out his fingers. They ache and his hand feels heavy but it is not the worst injury he has had. He is more worried about Mr. Weston’s face.

“I am fine,” he says.

“Would you like me to talk to Stiles?” she asks.

“Yes. Please.” he says, voice hoarse. Laura smiles at him again and rises to her feet.

Derek is left alone with his thoughts and he sighs as rain begins to pour outside.

**

The wind whistles outside and Derek waits in the library for his sister to come back. He sees Lord Stilinski’s letter on his desk and he picks it up with shaky fingers.

He has no choice but to visit him. The last thing he wants to do is leave here for the city, but he cannot throw away all of his potential investments. He hopes Stiles will understand and he hopes Stiles won’t be mad at him for leaving.

Derek sighs as he writes the letter, hand hurting, and he gives it to one of the servants to post.

Laura comes into the library. She sits on the sofa and puts her hands in her lap, her movements too careful, and Derek’s heart drops.

“I do not think he is very happy right now,” she says.

“Has he had something to eat?” Derek asks.

“I will make sure something is sent up to him,” Laura assures him.

Derek rubs his hands over his face. He hates that he managed to invite such a horrible man into his home.

He spends the rest of the day in the library, listening to the rain hitting the windows. The bad weather worsens his mood and Laura takes pity on him, sitting with him for the whole day. Derek cannot keep his mind off Stiles.

“Do you think he will come to dinner?” Derek asks his sister, later in the evening.

Laura looks at him. “I hope so.”

They wait for him even though it looks like Stiles won’t turn up. Derek is ready to give up but a moment later he hears someone clear their throat. He turns around and sees Stiles, sees his husband and he cannot help but stare.

He is wearing that awful suit. The one he was wearing when they met.

“Is there a problem?” he snaps. Derek is now used to seeing him in much finer clothes and his mouth drops open. The suit looks terrible and Laura’s eyebrows are raised.

“I did not know you still had that,” Derek says.

Stiles sniffs. “Well, Lord Hale, I may have married you but I am still the orphan kid.”

Derek’s heart stutters.

Stiles smiles coldly at him. “Let us go and impress your guest.”

Derek looks to the floor and says nothing. Laura clears her throat and leads the way to the dining room. Only three places are set at the table and he sees Stiles look around, confused.

“Where is Mr. Weston?”

“He had to leave, urgent business elsewhere,” Derek says, his voice flat. He feels Stiles glance at him.

Stiles does not seem to know what to say after that. He is quiet for the rest of the meal, squirming in his seat and tugging at his ratty suit. It looks worse than Derek remembers, but he is hit with fond memories of their first few dances together.

The suit is not nice, but Stiles’ skin is still lovely, so wonderfully fair.

“Where is Mr. Weston?” Stiles asks, again, at the end of the meal. Laura has already left them alone and Derek hides his bruised hand behind his back.

“Gone,” Derek replies.

Stiles takes a step closer. His eyes look wild and a broken noise slips out of his mouth.

“I am sorry –”

“I do not want your apology,” Stiles snaps.

Derek takes a breath. They are standing in the hallway, feet apart from each other, and he wants Stiles to know that he is not like all those other men. He is not like Mr. Weston.

He does not know how to show it.

“I thought you had thrown those clothes out,” he says quietly.

Stiles stares at Derek with wide, angry eyes. “I did not.”

“Why?”

“There is no use in hiding who I am. I am the ugly orphan.”

Derek looks at him. He tries to keep his voice steady. “I think you are beautiful.”

Stiles goes pale.

“And I want to dance with you like we did the night we met.”

His mouth opens and color returns to his cheeks. Stiles’ chest rises and falls as he breathes but his eyes are narrowing, turning dark and resentful. He takes a step forward and shoves at Derek’s chest.

“Do not say things like that!” he says, pleading. “Do not say that to me. Do not _lie_ to me, Derek. I cannot take it. I cannot take it.”

“Stiles –”

He rushes past and knocks into Derek as he tries to escape the room.

Derek follows his husband, knowing that he must even if Stiles does not want him to. He cannot leave Stiles like this, cannot leave him so distraught.

He thinks he knows where Stiles is going. Derek runs; following Stiles outside where it is still raining, water falling from the sky in heavy drops. Stiles is yelling at the clouds.

Derek wipes his face and he can see the silhouette of Stiles’ body. He calls out to him.

“Leave me alone!”

Derek takes a step closer. He can hear thunder rumbling in the sky and it sets him on edge.

“Stiles,” he yells.

His husband whips around to face him. His eyes glitter in the darkness and drops of water cling to his eyelashes. Stiles stumbles backwards.

“You – you are impossible,” he says, his voice hard to hear over the rain.

Derek walks forward. “It is not a lie,” he says.

Stiles’ lip trembles. He lets Derek come closer.

“It is not a _lie_ ,” Derek says again.

Stiles turns away, holding his hands out as Derek steps right up to him. “But I am – I am nothing. I let Mr. Weston use me and I am _nothing_.”

“You are not nothing!” Derek yells. “You are _everything_. You are beautiful, and being an orphan does not change that. It is Mr. Weston who is nothing but an awful man, and I am sorry for bringing him here, I am sorry for letting him say cruel things to you.”

Stiles reaches forward and clutches at Derek’s shirt.

“I am sorry,” Derek says, and Stiles is looking at him, his tears mixed with the rain. His hands are shaking, his whole body seems to be shaking, but he does not move. Derek, as carefully as he can, draws Stiles closer.

He is met with some resistance. Stiles struggles against him for a moment, but then, his body collapses against Derek’s chest and Derek holds him.

He holds Stiles as he cries, until they are both shivering from the cold. Stiles buries his face in Derek’s neck, his mouth a hot point of contact against Derek’s skin as he sobs. Derek tries to say sorry again, sorry for how the world has treated Stiles, but he does not think Stiles can hear him over the rain.

As gently as he can, he leads Stiles inside. They trail water and mud all over the floor as they make their way up to the bedrooms. Derek finds a towel and gently dries Stiles’ hair, dabs at his face until there are no more glistening raindrops present.

Derek worries when Stiles just stands there.

“You need to take off these clothes,” Derek says quietly. Stiles simply looks at him, every part of him still shivering. His hands quiver too much to unbutton his clothes.

“Let me?”

Stiles nods. His eyes look trusting and he lets Derek take off the drenched suit. Once the jacket is off Derek drops to his knees, looking up as he removes Stiles’ shoes, his socks. Stiles is staring down at him and it makes Derek’s throat dry.

It is almost too much, undressing his husband, and he slowly takes off Stiles’ trousers.

He can hear Stiles’ breaths in the quiet of their room. Stiles’ hand reaches out, and he runs his fingers through Derek’s wet hair. Derek tries not to shudder.

He stands. Stiles is only in his undergarments.

“I can do the rest,” Stiles says. His voice is rough. “You are wet and cold, too.”

Derek nods. “Get warm,” he says, and he watches Stiles walk slowly to his room. Derek sighs and gets himself dry, pulling on his nightclothes. He waits for as long as he possibly can before knocking on Stiles’ door.

“You can come in.”

Derek wets his lips and opens the door. Stiles is already settled in his sheets, but he sits up when he sees Derek.

“I am sorry –”

Stiles sighs. “Derek, please, you have apologized enough.”

“But you were mad.”

“Yes,” he says, voice quiet.

Derek walks forward and drops to his knees at the side of Stiles’ bed. Stiles clenches his jaw together, almost wriggling away, but Derek holds out his hands.

“Please,” he says.

Stiles’ eyes are wide. He tentatively reaches out, and there is a rush of movement when he realizes how warm Derek’s hands still are.

Derek smiles weakly, their fingers twisting around each other. “Mr. Weston is gone,” he says. “I am not ever inviting him here again, and I am not going to do any more business with him.”

“But... why? Why is he not here? You have been working on this investment for weeks,” he whispers.

“Stiles –”

Stiles’ hold of his hand tightens. “Derek, please, tell me. I need to know.”

Derek sighs, shifting uncomfortably, but he knows he needs to be honest. There is no use in hiding anything anymore. “I punched him in the face,” he says.

Stiles’ eyes widen in alarm. “What? Why?”

“He – he did not say very nice things about you. He called you a whore.”

Stiles looks ashamed, his eyes cast down. “He was one of the – you know.”

Derek nods.

“You do not mind?” he whispers, voice hoarse.

Derek shakes his head, and Stiles turns away, pressing his cheek into the pillow. His shoulders rise and fall, and he sounds like he is trying to not break down in front of Derek. He rolls back over and his lip wobbles.

“Stiles,” Derek whispers. “Did any of them force themselves on you?”

A tear drops from his eye before he has the chance to wipe it away. He shakes his head. “No,” he says, voice cracking. “No. I – I let them touch me. Does that make me dirty?”

“No, not at all.”

Stiles swallows, his eyes shining. “They did not force me. But they still weren’t very nice, after.”

Derek nods, anger flickering in him. He tells himself that he can be angry and upset later. He hates that even one person has done something terrible to this beautiful man in front of him, but right now he needs to care for Stiles.

“I wanted to feel wanted. I hoped, maybe, that it would mean more to one of them and that they would _court_ me, and treat me well,” he says, “But none of them did. And then I stopped expecting that it would be anything different.”

Derek looks at him sadly.

“And then I met you,” Stiles says. He sighs. “You would have been better off not marrying me.”

“No,” Derek says, voice breaking. “No.”

Stiles smiles weakly and clears his throat. “I am sorry your investment was ruined.”

Derek shakes his head. “It does not matter, but I will have to meet with Lord Stilinski in the city. My business with him will be enough.”

Stiles swallows. “So you must go, now.”

Derek is quiet.

“Do you know Lord Stilinski?” he finally asks.

Stiles shakes his head.

“Good. I know him to be a kind man, but if you have met him, if you know him, if you tell me he is not a good man, then I will not do business with him. I promise,” Derek says in a hard voice.

Stiles closes his mouth. He looks bewildered but then he sighs. “I do not know him. You can do what you want.”

“Thank you,” Derek says. He rubs a thumb across Stiles’ knuckle, where their fingers are still entwined, and he places a kiss there.

Stiles stares at him, even as Derek leaves the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Derek asks if anyone has ever forced Stiles to have sex. Stiles says that no one has._  
>     
> \--
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter <3 And I hope you're glad that I didn't leave you hanging for too long ;)
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and for all your comments. I really appreciate them :) :)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots and lots of thanks to the wonderful pale-silver-comb <3

Derek is tired when he arrives in the city. He wishes his sister were with him, and he wishes that he did not have to leave Stiles. At least that man will never return to their home again.

“Sir?”

Derek rubs his eyes. Boyd has opened the carriage door for him.

“Thank you,” Derek says, stepping out. He turns to his servant and hesitates, not sure how to say this. He remembers what Boyd did to get rid of their guest, even after Derek had been violent and thrown a punch. “And thank you for last week.”

Boyd raises his eyebrows. “I did not do anything, sir.”

“You know you did, Boyd,” Derek says quietly. “And I – I do not know what would have happened without you there.”

“I did not like Mr. Weston either,” Boyd says. “I was happy to get rid of him.”

Derek smiles weakly.

“How is your hand?”

Derek looks down and stretches his fingers. His hand has healed now, even if it still feels a little raw. In the past week Stiles has looked at his bruised skin and has said nothing, too embarrassed, too ashamed to bring up Mr. Weston again.

He lets Boyd go and steps into his lodgings. It isn’t home, but Derek is looking forward to seeing Lord Stilinski in the morning. It cannot go as badly as Derek’s latest business venture.

It is warmer in the city. The next morning finds the sun high in the sky, and Derek eats alone before meeting with Lord Stilinski.

“Lord Hale,” he hears.

Derek turns around and smiles. Lord Stilinski is older than he remembers, with more lines on his face and his skin dark from travelling. “It is nice to see you again,” he says.

Lord Stilinski nods. “I apologize for not being able to attend your wedding.”

“I wish you could have met my husband,” Derek says. “He is – he is quite wonderful.”

His eyes turn knowing. “Young love,” he says, and Derek’s cheeks go red. “I am happy for you, son, and I know your parents would have been very happy for you, too.”

Derek’s throat goes dry. He tries to nod, but thankfully Lord Stilinski does not expect him to answer. His smile has turned into a grimace and his eyes, though kind, are sad. Derek knows he lost family too, lost his wife some years ago.

“Why don’t we have a drink and then we can get started?” Lord Stilinski says.

“Yes,” Derek says. He follows Lord Stilinski into the room.

Derek enjoys his company, his suggestions, his input, much more than he did with Mr. Weston. Lord Stilinski listens to his ideas and more quickly than he thought, they come up with a business plan. There is still much to do, but it was more than enough for a day’s work.

They eat dinner together and Lord Stilinski tells him stories of his travels. It makes Derek want to leave home, to see the world for a few months.

The next morning Boyd knocks on the door. Derek looks up from his work but Lord Stilinski continues reading the book in his hands.

“Sir,” Boyd says quietly. “It is from your sister.”

Derek hesitantly reaches for the letter Boyd is holding. He opens it and reads the letter twice before he manages to understand what it is saying.

_My dearest brother,_

_I do not want to alarm you, Derek, but I know you would not be happy if I did not send you this letter. Stiles has fallen ill, but I believe it is only a cold and a slight fever. We have called for Deaton, and he says Stiles will recover in a few days._

_Might I suggest not stepping out into thunderstorms and then trailing mud throughout the house? I hope you are not sick as well._

_Once again, I assure you that there is nothing to worry about._

_I hope your work is going well, and please give Lord Stilinski my regards._

_Your loving sister,_

_Laura._

He stands abruptly, folding the letter in his hands. He cannot help but worry and he wants to leave here and make sure there is nothing wrong with Stiles. He fears it is more than a silly cold and that how little Stiles eats has something to do with this.

Lord Stilinski frowns at him. “Is everything alright?”

Derek swallows. “No – no. It isn’t.”

Lord Stilinski squints, his pale eyes showing concern.

“Stiles is unwell,” he explains.

“Stiles?”

“My husband,” Derek says quickly.

Lord Stilinski blinks. “Oh. I will not keep you. I will make sure to write to you and we will find another time to go through all of this.”

“Thank you, sir,” Derek says, and he barely says goodbye before leaving. Boyd slowly follows him with an amused expression on his face, and Derek is secretly happy to get home early.

**

“Oh, Derek,” Laura says when she sees him.

Derek glares at her. “Where is he?”

“He is upstairs with Deaton,” she says. “You did not need to come back so soon.”

“Yes I did,” he mutters, kissing his sister on the cheek. She smiles and watches him rush up the stairs.

He tries to calm his heart when he enters Stiles’ bedroom. He sees Deaton standing over the bed, but Derek immediately searches for Stiles’ face. His husband is sleeping, breaths shallow. His nose looks red and sore, and moisture clings to Stiles’ skin.

“What is wrong?” Derek says.

Deaton packs his things away, looking irritated. “Very little. His fever has dropped and I do not need to be here any longer. I am short staffed at the hospital and I must return there.”

“Wait,” Derek says. He clenches his teeth together, wishing that the doctor was not so dismissive.

“Yes, Lord Hale?”

Derek walks closer, his eyes on Stiles. He reaches out and wipes Stiles’ sweaty hair from his forehead. “Are you sure he will be fine?” Derek asks quietly, worriedly. “He – he barely eats sometimes. I swear that there are days where he does not eat at all.”

Deaton is quiet for a moment. “Give him plenty of water, and some fruit. Send for me if his condition worsens.”

Derek nods. He wishes Deaton were more helpful, and he listens to the doctor leave before sitting on the chair beside the bed. He reaches for a wet cloth and dabs it at Stiles’ forehead, hoping to cool him down.

 He feels tired all of a sudden, from the journey, from the stress, and his eyes start to close. He listens to Stiles’ breathing, startling when someone touches his hand. Stiles is awake, smiling weakly.

 “You’re here,” he croaks.

 “Of course I am here.”

 “You did not have to come,” Stiles says, trying to sit up. Derek does not let him and Stiles huffs, looking irritated at the way he is told to lie down. “I told Laura not to write to you.”

 Derek lets out a breath. Stiles is looking up at him sleepily, his brown eyes soft and pretty. “I am glad she did,” he says.

“There is nothing wrong with me.”

Derek does not say anything back, just sits back and smiles tiredly. They stare at each other until Stiles seems to wake up properly, and Derek likes the way he can admire his husband’s features as Stiles looks back at him.

“How was your time with Lord Stilinski?”

“Good,” Derek says.

Stiles reaches for the glass of water on the bedside table and Derek watches him drink, hoping his husband knows how much he cares, how much he wants him to be happy and healthy.

Derek stands, taking a few steps backwards. He is exhausted, and maybe that is why he says it, but he does not want to leave Stiles alone. “May I spend the night with you here?”

Stiles scrunches his eyebrows.

Derek blushes. “Not to, not to do that, you are still unwell. I just want to make sure you are fine during the night.”

Stiles falls back on his pillow and smiles faintly. “Alright,” he says.

Derek pauses awkwardly before leaving the room, surprised Stiles is letting him have this. He is aware of every movement he makes when he returns to Stiles’ room, slipping between the bed sheets.

“Goodnight,” Stiles mumbles, his eyes closed.

He falls asleep almost instantly, breaths a little too short, and Derek feels lost. He is slightly hard, just from sharing a bed with Stiles, with his husband, but Derek ignores it as best as he can.

He turns so that he is facing Stiles, hot cheek resting against the pillow. Stiles has turned away from him and Derek can see his shoulders, beautiful in the dark. Derek reaches out, fingers almost touching, but he removes his hand.

Derek’s heart is pounding but he knows Stiles does not want to be touched. He sighs and tries to sleep.

In the morning Stiles is curled around him, warm, so warm, and Derek has his hand on Stiles’ hip. Derek breathes in shakily, wishing he could have this every morning, wishing that Stiles was more comfortable with him.

He thinks Stiles will lurch back when he wakes, but he mumbles something into Derek’s night shirt and presses himself closer. Derek’s heart jumps.

“Morning,” Stiles says, lifting his head.

Derek looks back at him, nervous. He is still and he does not want to ruin this moment of tranquillity. Stiles frowns.

“Is something wrong?”

Derek shakes his head, tries to calm himself down.

“I would not mind if you stayed with me through the night more often,” Stiles says lightly.

“Really?” Derek says, voice a little rough, and Stiles nods, resting his head on Derek’s chest.

 Derek can feel himself smiling. His husband wants to share a bed with him; he wants to share this space with him even if it is only for sleeping.

 Derek adjusts Stiles around him so that he cannot feel how affected Derek is from having another warm body clinging to his own. He does not want to scare Stiles away.

 “Derek?” Stiles asks softly.

 “Yes?”

 “You did not spend much time with Lord Stilinski,” he says quietly. “Does that mean you will have to go back to the city?”

 Derek’s stomach drops. He hates that he has managed to ruin almost all the work he has done in the past few weeks.

 Stiles grimaces when he says nothing. “Perhaps you could invite him here.”

 “I would like to,” Derek says.

 Stiles’ voice turns hopeful. “I would prefer that,” he says. “I do not like you going. But – but if you have to leave again, I think I will invite Scott to stay while you are gone. He cannot always come because he needs to work.”

 Derek brushes his fingers over Stiles’ night clothes. “It would be nice to have your friend here again.”

 “I am glad you think so,” Stiles says quietly, letting out a breath. He seems to press even closer to Derek’s body but they lie there for only a few minutes before someone bursts into the room. Stiles groans into Derek’s chest immediately, hiding himself away.

“Ready to once again be a –” Mr. Meadows says loudly. His footsteps thud along the floor and he screeches the curtains open. He stops talking when he sees Derek in Stiles’ bed.

Derek frowns. “Is he always so cheerful?”

Stiles lifts his head and smirks.

Derek turns to Stiles. “I had better return to my room.” He reaches out, hesitating, but Stiles does not move away or tell him to stop. Derek brushes the back of his fingers along Stiles’ cheek before rising from the bed.

He cannot help the small smile on his face, and Boyd is waiting for him in his room.

Boyd raises his eyebrows. “You seem very happy, sir.”

Derek blushes. “It is not – we were only sleeping.”

Boyd looks even more amused, but he says nothing.

“You are right, let’s not talk about this,” Derek grumbles, and Boyd cannot hold in his laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter :) I know it is only short, but hopefully the wait for the next one won't be long!! We will find out about Lord Stilinski eventually ;)
> 
> Thank you for reading and for your lovely comments <3


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to pale-silver-comb <3 <3

Things seem calmer after Stiles recovers from his cold. They sit with each other in the library, reading a book, and it is easy. Stiles’ smiles are not forced and sometimes he will reach over and link their fingers together.

“Do you have any secrets?” Stiles asks him one afternoon.

Derek turns to him. He tries to think of something, opening and closing his mouth but nothing comes out.

Stiles laughs. “Of course. You are too good for secrets.”

Derek glares. “I am sure I can think of something.”

“I like you how you are,” Stiles says. “I like that you have nothing to hide.”

He looks down, feeling warm. He can feel Stiles’ arm pressed against his own. “When I was fifteen,” he says, “I asked a girl from the town to marry me. She laughed at me and did not give me an answer. I have not even told Laura that.”

“Did you love her?” Stiles asks.

“I thought I did.”

Stiles smiles at him. “You are quite quick to offer marriage proposals.”

“And I do not regret it,” he says, and he likes the way Stiles blushes. Derek looks over and admires Stiles’ pale skin and moles, wishing he could kiss Stiles here. He wishes Stiles wanted to kiss him, but he keeps his head down and his lips away.

Stiles seems to be eating more lately. Derek keeps an eye on him, but Stiles is slowly starting to have more than a few mouthfuls each meal.

It gives Derek hope; hope that everything will be fine. It can only get better from here and he feels so close to his husband now that they spend the night together. They only lie side by side, but Derek loves it more than anything. He loves the way Stiles sometimes whispers to him in the darkness, and Derek shares more of himself than he ever thought he would.

His hope shatters when one evening meal Stiles starts to cough again. He shudders and goes pale before standing, saying that he feels unwell. Derek gets up to go with him, but Stiles shakes his head and says he wants to be alone.

Laura gives him a pitying look over the table. “Do not look so disheartened, Derek. I am sure he will be fine in the morning.”

Derek sighs. “I thought things were better.”

Her smile falters. “What do you mean?”

“Never mind,” Derek mutters.

Laura reaches to him, putting a hand on his arm. She is quiet for a moment. “Derek, I know that you care about your husband, but you worry about him too much.You need to think of other things.”

“Did Stiles ask you to say this?”

Laura’s cheeks go pink. “Not exactly, but he did talk to me while you were away.”

“It is nice to know that he complains about me,” Derek says, frowning.

“I would not call it that.”

“I do not need to think of other things,” Derek says. “Everything is perfectly fine.”

“You did throw away an investment,” she says. Derek glowers. “And I know I wrote to you, but you did not need to come back home so soon when you were with Lord Stilinski.”

Derek says nothing and Laura sighs. He supposes that he does spend a lot of time with Stiles, or thinking about Stiles, but he cannot help it. Derek likes his husband’s company, he likes the way Stiles makes him feel and he likes that he is not so alone anymore.

“And,” Laura says carefully. “Not that I completely approve of this, but you do spend less time in the kitchens with Miss Reyes, and you only see Boyd when you have to.”

Derek looks down. He feels guilty for that, because he truly is grateful for the time he gets to spend with Boyd and Miss Reyes. They are almost family, and they have been working in this house for a long time now.

“What about you?” says Derek.

Laura laughs. “What about me?”

“You wanted me to find someone and get married,” he says. “When are you going to do the same?”

She seems thrown by the question. Laura places her hands on her lap, and then she takes a deep breath. “I do not want to get married.”

“But –”

“I want to stay here with you,” she says. “I do not want to disappear just because some man wants my money.” Her voice lowers. “I do not want to leave you alone; I do not want to lose my brother.”

Derek smiles kindly at her. He does not want her to go away either, but Derek does want her happy. He does not want to trap Laura here because she thinks he needs her.

She gives him a sad look.

“If you find someone who can make you happy, please do not let anything stop you.”

Laura sighs.

“Please, promise me.”

“I promise,” she says. “But do not think it is going to happen anytime soon.”

Derek grins. “Good. I do like having you here.”

Laura gives him a fond smile, and she seems a little happier. Derek still worries about Stiles, but it is not so intense. He listens to his sister talk and waits for their meal to finish before he goes and finds him.

Stiles opens his door quickly, eyes wild as they scan Derek’s face. Derek cannot tell if he is upset.

“Please,” he says. “Do not say anything.”

“Stiles.” His smile is weak.

Stiles takes Derek’s hands in his own. “Please. I do not – I do not want to talk about it,” he says. “You can come into my room and we can sleep.”

He nods. It is hard to say no to that.

**

His sister’s words stay in his head for much of the night. He lies beside Stiles’ sleeping body and he knows he should ask Miss Reyes how she is, or if she needs any more medication. Derek does not want her paying for that out of her own pocket.

He heads towards the kitchens after breakfast. He wants to at least make this right when so many other things feel like they are going wrong.

Stiles’ eating is not really improving and Derek has just received a letter saying that Lord Stilinski will not be available for business for another month.

Derek sighs, but he has to admit that it is not all bad. This morning he woke up next to his husband and it had been warm, peaceful, intimate. It’s more than Derek could have asked for.

He hears voices and harsh words when he is on the stairs down to the kitchens. Derek quickens his pace and he finds Miss Blake and Miss Reyes standing across from each other, and there is a mad look in Miss Reyes’ eyes.

“You are evil.”

Miss Blake looks smug.

Neither of them notices Derek at the edge of the room. He hears a mutter, a foul word, and then Miss Reyes raises her hand and slaps Miss Blake across the face.

“ _ Miss Reyes! _ ”

She barely notices him, anger in her eyes as she looks at the damage she has done. There is a deep red mark across Miss Blake’s cheek and she stumbles backwards, in shock.

“You witch,” she spits.

“I am not afraid to hurt you again –”

Derek glares at Miss Reyes, and she finally falls quiet. She turns to face him and looks the least bit guilty or regretful.

“I will see you in my library,” he tells her in a hard voice.

Miss Reyes pinches her nose. She looks like she might protest, but she seems to know that she has stepped out of line. Derek keeps his eyes on her until she is out of sight.

Miss Blake is breathing hard. “Are you going to dismiss her?” she says, a smile flickering on her lips. Her pale skin is a bright, unforgiving red.

Derek narrows his eyes. “No. I am going to listen to what she has to say.”

“But – that is unfair! Look at what she did!”

“Miss Blake,” Derek says coldly. He does not have any proof but he knows, he knows that she is likely the one at fault here. “You are forgetting that I have known Miss Reyes for much of my life. I have known her a lot longer than I have known you, and I know Miss Reyes does not do things without good reason to.”

Her nostrils flare.

Derek turns away. He has no wish to see her or talk to her.

“I would do it again,” Miss Reyes yells, as soon as he walks into the library. Derek pinches his nose and sighs. “I would hit that vile woman a thousand times over if I could. I would slap that smug smile off her face –”

“Miss Reyes!”

His shout seems to stop her and she puts her hands behind her back. She takes a breath. “You would have done it too if you had known what she has done,” Miss Reyes says.

Derek stares at her, horrified. “I would not hit another woman!”

She rolls her eyes.

“I know she is unlikable,” Derek starts.

Miss Reyes’ mouth flies open. “She is more than  _ unlikeable, _ Lord Hale. She makes you uncomfortable every time she looks at you. You know what she wants.”

Derek grits his teeth together.

“Miss Reyes –”

“Derek!”

He stops, surprised at the use of his name. He has never heard it from her before and Miss Reyes takes a step closer. Her eyes are serious and her curls are wild around her forehead.

“I would not have done it if I did not have good reason to,” she says.

Derek swallows. “You will have to tell me what she did, or I might have to let you go.”

Miss Reyes pauses for a moment, then laughs.

“You wouldn’t.”

He sighs. “You are right – I would not.”

Miss Reyes twists her lips. “You should dismiss her instead.”

“You know I cannot get rid of her unless you tell me what she has done,” Derek says. He silently wills Miss Reyes to tell him because he desperately does want to get rid of her. He hates it whenever she is near, and Stiles hates it too.

Miss Reyes sighs.

“It is to do with Stiles, isn’t it?”

She nods.

Derek gives her a hard look. “And he has you keeping secrets from me too?”

Miss Reyes throws him an exasperated look. “It is not  _ my  _ secret to tell. He made me promise that I would not say anything.”

Derek cannot hide his disappointment. He does not know how to help if no one tells him anything; he does not know how to make this house more comfortable for Stiles if no one lets him know what is wrong.

“If it makes you feel better, Lord Hale, I think he is an idiot.”

He closes his eyes at Miss Reyes’ words. Derek thinks it is more than that; he thinks Stiles is hurting, and that his heart is far too heavy. He thinks that is why Stiles makes the decisions he does and he thinks that is why Stiles tells him close to nothing.

“Please, do not say that.”

She grimaces. “Sorry.”

“Please keep an eye on Miss Blake. I do not trust her,” Derek says.

Miss Reyes nods. “Of course.”

The silence is grim as they look at each other. He hopes so much that Stiles will come to him. He hopes that he will  _ say  _ something, simply so that he does not have to suffer anymore. Derek wonders how long it will take.

“I should go,” Miss Reyes says.

Derek clears his throat. “Wait,” he says. “Are – are you well?”

His voice is awkward but she beams. “You came to visit me in the kitchens, didn’t you?”

He shrugs.

“You did!” She laughs delightedly. “I am very well.”

“Do you need anything?”

Miss Reyes frowns.

“Do you need any more medicine?” Derek asks.

She smiles, shaking her head. “Boyd has been helping me.”

“But  _ I _ can help you,” Derek insists. “I can pay for whatever you need.”

“That is very kind of you, Lord Hale,” Miss Reyes says. “But I do not want to ask it from you. Your family has already done so much for me, and besides, I quite like Boyd and me as a team. I think we are well suited to each other.”

Derek nods. “You are.”

“And I think this is his way of telling me that he is interested in me,” she says, her cheeks flushing. Miss Reyes shakes her head. “Thank you, anyway.”

“Please let me know if you change your mind.”

“I will,” she says, grinning.

The library door swings open and Laura steps through. Her eyes land on Miss Reyes and she glares. “Are you the cause of the disruption downstairs?”

Miss Reyes purses her lips. “I am, Lady Laura.”

They stare at each other.

“It had something to do with Miss Blake,” Derek tells his sister quietly.

“Oh.”

Miss Reyes looks at them both. She seems to think that Laura will not be so forgiving and she quickly escapes the library. Laura sighs and turns to Derek.

“Should I be worried?”

“Yes,” Derek says, “But not about this. I just – I need you to keep an eye on Miss Blake whenever you are near her. I do not trust her.”

Laura frowns. “Of course, Derek.”

“Thank you,” he says, and Derek hopes that it will be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are!! :) I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I promise that the two of them will talk to each other very soon!! I just had to have Erica slap Miss Blake first.
> 
> Also I totally put a chapter count on this thing ;)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to pale-silver-comb <3 You are wonderful.

Miss Blake seems to notice their attention. Her smiles are a little bit sharper and there is a bruise underneath her left eye that doesn’t want to fade.

Stiles looks at him strangely. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Derek says.

“You are looking at the door like it might hurt you,” he says back, smirking a little.

Derek sighs. He is expecting Miss Blake to turn up in every corner he looks. She is there more often than he would like, but now she notices his attention. He cannot tell if she is irritated by it or if she _likes_ that Derek looks at her.

It unsettles him greatly.

Stiles shuffles over on the sofa. They are surrounded by the books in the library and it would be peaceful if Derek could stop thinking about what Miss Blake has done. He hates that no one has told him anything.

“You seem stressed,” Stiles whispers.

“I – I guess that I am.”

He smiles. “I am sure there are things you could work on before Lord Stilinski comes back.”

“That is not what I am worried about,” Derek says stiffly.

Stiles frowns. “Then what is it you are worried about?”

He turns to his husband. Derek stares at Stiles’ amber eyes and tries to think of what to say. He wants Stiles to be honest with him, he wants Stiles to be happy, and maybe if he just _asks_ he can find out what Miss Blake has done.

They are interrupted by a knock on the door. A servant steps in with a letter, and Derek leans away from his husband. He had not realised they were so close.

Derek reaches out but the servant shakes his head. “It is not for you, sir.”

He hands the letter instead to Stiles, who takes it with wide eyes. Derek puts his hands in his lap as he waits for Stiles to open it.

Stiles’ lips are in a thin line as he reads. “It is Lady Burton,” he says quietly. “She is likely to die in the next week and she has requested my presence. I do not know why.”

“She was your guardian,” Derek says softly. “Of course she wants you there.”

Stiles chuckles bitterly. “I did not think she cared about me.”

Derek feels sad. He does not know what he would have done without loving parents, and he is so in awe of Stiles for battling through it all.

Stiles lets out a long sigh and folds the paper in half. He is sitting close to Derek, and he gently rests his head on Derek’s shoulder. Derek swallows and holds out his hand, hoping Stiles will take it.

“When will you have to leave?” Derek asks, as their fingers tangle together.

“Early in the morning,” he says. “It will be strange going back.”

“You will see Scott again,” Derek says, and he likes the way Stiles begins to smile. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Stiles shakes his head. He turns slightly and presses his lips to Derek’s clothed shoulder. Derek’s heart races. “No,” he says. “You have too much to do here, and I don’t want you to see me there.”

Derek sighs. “Stiles, you do not have to do everything alone.”

Stiles sits up. He lets go of Derek’s hand and his eyes are sharp. “I do _not_ do everything alone.”

Derek stares back, a hard look in his eye.

Stiles moves away from him, but Derek cannot bring himself to regret what he just said. He needs Stiles to know that he has people he can turn to now, that Derek can support him and help him.

“In the past you may have had to do everything by yourself,” Derek says softly. “But you do not have to anymore.”

Stiles’ gaze flits around, and his breaths are short. The letter he holds crumples in his hand and his lips look dry.

“But – but you help me with so many things,” he says, voice hoarse. “You gave me a home. You gave me a title. You are helping me learn how to read and write properly, and you made Mr. Weston disappear. You do not even _touch your_ husband because I asked you not to.”

Derek closes his eyes. “I know you are hiding something. I know you are hiding something that _hurts_ you, and –” He stops and his eyes flicker open. Derek lifts his fingers and touches the curve of Stiles’ cheek. His skin feels soft, smooth. “I need you to do this for yourself. You don’t deserve to hurt anymore, Stiles.”

“Derek,” he whispers, his eyes hot with tears. “You just – you just do not _see_ sometimes. It is not that easy.”

He stands, but Derek’s fingers curl around Stiles’ wrist.

“Please,” he says. “I cannot make you do anything. But think about it; think about telling someone even if that person is not me.”

Stiles’ eyes fall to the floor. He leaves.

**

“I am sorry to hear about Lady Burton,” Laura says from across the table. Stiles is sitting next to Derek, and he tries to smile.

“Thank you,” Stiles says, but his words are distant. He barely looks at Derek, and Derek feels that he said too much earlier. It was the wrong time, and Stiles had just learned that his guardian is on her death bed.

Their meals come and Derek starts to eat. Stiles only stares at his food, and his cutlery stays clean. Derek leans over and whispers in his ear.

“You should eat something if you are travelling tomorrow,” he says.

Stiles turns to him, something flickering in his eyes. Derek does not know what it is, but something is different from all the other nights when Stiles has not eaten his food.

“You are right,” he says, voice hard, and he slowly reaches for his cutlery and scoops some food into his mouth.

Stiles’ face immediately darkens. He takes a long drink of water, chest rising and falling, and he rubs the back of his hand against his lips

He looks angry.

“Stiles?”

His husband turns to him. “Do you really want to know?”

Derek swallows.

“Do you want to know why I am _broken_?”

It is not the time, and even though Stiles is speaking in a dead, quiet voice, they are not alone. This cannot be the place for Stiles to tell him anything, not when there are servants at the edge of the room and Laura is sitting directly opposite them.

But, he nods, because Derek thinks this might be his only chance. He does not know what to expect, but Derek does not anticipate the grim smile that starts on Stiles’ face and the way he very deliberately knocks over his water.

The liquid splashes over Derek’s shirt and pants, and it’s cold, seeping through the fabric. Derek gets to his feet and some of the servants come nearer but Derek waves them away. He glares as Stiles stares at him sweetly.

“I am _so_ sorry,” he says, standing and moving to the side. Then Stiles grips at Derek’s shoulders and drags him to the seat he just vacated.

Derek blinks as Stiles forces him to sit.

Stiles looks shaky and triumphant and Derek just stares at him, watching the way Stiles sits and takes Derek’s food into his mouth, making a show of swallowing it.

“Is everything alright?” Laura asks.

“Yes,” Stiles says. “Yes.”

Derek scowls at him, and he dabs at his shirt. Laura shakes her head and thankfully doesn’t say anything. The rest of the servants mutter and stare, but Stiles ignores them.

“Are you going to eat something?” Stiles asks him.

“I was only trying to help,” Derek hisses.

Stiles licks his lips. “I know. But you should eat something.”

Derek slowly picks up Stiles’ cutlery. He stabs at the food on the plate in front of him and he can feel Stiles’ eyes on him, can feel the way he watches Derek’s every move. A small part of him feels like he is being made fun of.

His lips close around the mouthful of food and he immediately gags. It tastes too much of salt, of _soap_ and Derek spits it out.

“Water,” he chokes, but the glass closest to him is empty. He starts to cough.

“Derek?”

He doesn’t answer his sister, his mind spinning. The meal in front of him is disgusting, barely edible, and Stiles finally passes him a full glass of water.

“What was _that_?” he manages.

Stiles shrugs. The half smile is gone from his face.

“Derek, what has happened?” Laura asks.

Derek takes a breath. His mouth feels dry and horrible, and everyone in the room is staring at him. His food tastes awful, _Stiles’_ food tastes awful, and he cannot believe Stiles has never said anything about it.

“This meal,” Derek says, lip curling. “Is disgusting.”

Stiles starts to shrink in his seat.

“Is it always like this?” Derek asks.

“N – no,” he says.

Derek bites his tongue. He does not want to lash out. Stiles is starting to look scared, like he already regrets sharing this with Derek. But it has been months of this, months of Stiles not being able to eat because someone has been sabotaging his meals.

He knows who did this. He knows exactly who did it, knows it from the way the kitchen maid slapped her and the way Stiles always cowers in her presence.

Derek has to ask. He needs to make sure, and he turns to Stiles. “Do you know who is doing this to you?” he asks.

Stiles’ eyes are wide. His hands are shaking and Derek wants to comfort him, but he can’t, he is too angry to.

“Stiles.”

His husband shuts his eyes, and drags his fingernails across his cheeks. It creates three angry, red lines on his skin. “Yes,” he manages.

“Tell me who it was.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t,” he says. “I shouldn’t have done this, I shouldn’t have done this...”

Derek takes a breath. “Was it Miss Blake?”

Stiles looks at him, alarmed.

“You can tell me,” Derek says, and then he swears. “Please tell me.”

His face is pale, and he sucks in some air. “Yes,” he whispers. “It was her.”

Derek stands, the awful taste of Stiles’ food still in his mouth. He hates that this has happened, and he has never hated another living person the way he does Miss Blake. He hates that she made Stiles this way, made him terrified and silent.

“Tell Miss Blake I want her in the library,” he says to the servants. “Now.”

They nod and leave quickly. Laura has her mouth open, and she is staring at them both. “Derek, for the love of God, _please_ tell me what is going on.”

Derek turns to her. “Miss Blake has been sabotaging Stiles’ meals. I need to see her –” anger drains from his voice for a moment “– and you, can you stay here with him?”

Laura glances at Stiles. He has gone still and his eyes look like glass.

“I will stay with him,” she says, and Derek barely looks back as he strides towards the library.

**

Miss Blake is already waiting for him. The room is dark and a smile rests on her lips, making Derek feel sick. He walks over to the whisky and downs a glass to clear the taste of Stiles’ ruined food from his mouth.

“Lord Hale,” she says, coming closer.

Derek turns to her. He can barely contain his anger, and he wants her far from here. He wants to never lay eyes on her again.

“You are dismissed,” he says, “Without a reference and without this month’s wages. If I hear of you again, I will dirty your name and make sure you can never get work again.”

Miss Blake’s smile flickers. She sneers and steps close, too close, like she knows that Derek will not lay a hand on her even though he wants to.

“I know you are unsatisfied,” she says, voice low. Her fingers rest on Derek’s chest. “The servants know everything here, and they know you and your husband barely spend the night together.”

Derek is absolutely mortified. Her fingers trails lower.

“I can help you with that,” she says.

Derek grits his teeth together. He feels repulsed at her offer. “You are sick,” he spits. “You are vile, and disgusting, and there is no way I would touch you.”

She laughs. “And you would let that _orphan_ touch you? You would marry that man, and ruin yourself, even though he is a whore?”

Derek stares at her in shock.

Miss Blake’s lips curl. “Yes, your husband is a whore. He gave himself to other men and it wasn’t hard to figure out when he was living with Lady Burton.”

She lifts her hand, until she grips Derek’s chin. Her fingernails cut into his skin and he is too scared to touch her, even though she is so close. Derek thinks he will be violent, that he will hurt her until she cannot speak anymore.

“I work harder than he does and he lost me my job,” she spits. “The dirty fuck gets everything handed to him even though he is a lowly orphan.” Miss Blake’s nails press in harder. “But do you know what the best thing about all of this is?”

Derek glares at her.

“He knows it,” she says. “He knows he is scum, because I poisoned his meal each night and it took him months to say something. He knows exactly what he deserves.”

Miss Blake drops her hand, looking smug and triumphant.

Derek stares her in the eye. He hates what he sees. “Stiles is better than you, he is so much better than you in so many different ways. If I ever see you again, you will regret it.”

He steps into her, hard, and she stumbles backwards, gripping her shoulder. Derek’s stomach feels sick and as soon as he is in the hallway he asks Boyd to get rid of her. When he is alone again he pauses, feeling the ghost of her fingers on his chest, his face.

He tries to breathe and walks to the dining room. Stiles is not there, and neither is Laura. He rushes towards their rooms and does not remember to knock.

“Derek,” Laura says, standing. Her eyes look sad, confused, and across the room Stiles is packing his clothes away, moving around madly and dumping anything he can find into his trunk.

“Stiles?” he whispers.

“I have to go,” he chokes out. “I need to leave; I cannot be here if she is here – not anymore.”

Derek walks over to him, slowly reaching out and taking Stiles’ arm. He needs him to calm down, needs him to breathe.

Stiles does not fight him. Perhaps he has been fighting for too long, and he sags against Derek.

“She is gone,” Derek says, voice rough. “She is gone and never coming back. I will never let her hurt you again.”

He sees Laura slip out of the room and Derek lowers them to the floor. Stiles rests his head against Derek’s chest, and his cheeks and neck are flushed. He is crying. Derek runs a hand through his hair and presses his lips to the top of Stiles’ head.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Stiles laughs darkly. He hiccups and then struggles to sit. “I – I couldn’t. I need to leave; I need to go to Lady Burton’s before she does something else.”

Derek’s throat goes dry. He lets Stiles stand and watches him find the rest of his things and throw it in the trunk. Derek stays on the floor, feeling hopeless.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asks again, and Stiles turns to him. His eyes are bright and wild.

“Because it’s a weakness!” he yells. “Because I do not like always, always needing your help. Because I thought if I left it alone she would stop. Because she looks at you like she wants you, and, and she might do something to lessen your opinion of me. Because I am scared of her and she haunts me and sometimes I cannot look at a meal without seeing her face, seeing the way she would keep my food from me, seeing the way she would ruin it – – or, or I’d see the way she would force me to stay outside in a storm.”

“Stiles...” he says, heart crumpling.

He goes on. “I did not say anything because I do not want to give her even more power over me. I don’t want to be beaten, and because –” his voice breaks “– because I _deserve_ it and I am an orphan, and I am filth, and I am dirty for letting people touch me, and because they told me I killed my mother when I was born.”

Derek stands. He cannot let this go on, he cannot just let Stiles list all the way he hates himself. He wants to embrace Stiles again, but Stiles has turned away, curling in on himself.

“None of that is true,” Derek whispers. “You are not filth, and you do not deserve to be treated that way.”

He shakes his head.

“Miss Blake is gone. She is dismissed and you will never see her again,” Derek promises. He stands close to Stiles, dropping his head and hoping Stiles will look at him.

“But she – she always comes back,” Stiles says. “She always comes back. I got rid of her, before; Scott helped me frame her for stealing so that we could get rid of her. The rest of them knew she didn’t do it, so she still got a good reference, and then she was here. She was here.”

“She is gone,” Derek says again, voice hard. Stiles shakes his head.

“Lady Burton is ill,” he says. “I have to leave; I have to leave this place.”

Derek frowns. “I do not understand. You are _safe_ now. Please do not leave.”

Stiles turns to him, pushing at his chest. “But it’s not - it isn’t just Miss Blake!” he yells. “It is everyone! The rest of the servants, Mr. Meadows, your business partners, people who knew of me before I married you.”

Derek stops, suddenly unsure about everything.

“Please,” he says. “Don’t go.”

“I have to.”

“I did not think you were so miserable,” Derek whispers.

Stiles’ chest heaves. “And _that_ it what you do not see,” he says. “You do not see how everyone treats me. The only people who are kind to me are Laura, Erica and Boyd.”

Derek barely feels like he can breathe. He does not know how he missed so much.

Stiles looks at him, and his voice shakes. “I know – I know that they hid it from you, and that I hid it from you but –”

“I should have done something.”

“Yes,” he says. “You should have.”

His cheeks are red with guilt and shame, and Derek wants to make it better for Stiles here. Derek has been trying so hard, but he has been focusing on all of the wrong things. He did not realize how bad the servants have been, how everyone else has been towards his husband.

“Do you want me to come with you to Lady Burton’s?” Derek asks quietly, and his heart jolts when Stiles glares at him.

“No! I do not – I do not want to be around you,” Stiles says, stammering. “Not right now. I might say the wrong thing.”

Derek does not know what that means. It hurts to know that Stiles does not want to be around him, especially when he is so clearly upset. It hurts to know that Stiles is going to leave here too soon after a fight, and Derek is worried he will not want to return.

He is afraid of the answer, but Derek asks anyway.

“Will you come back?”

Stiles grabs at his hair. He kicks at the floor and groans. “I don’t know! I have nowhere else to go, Derek.”

Derek feels cold. He hates that it has come to this again, has come back to the fact that Stiles never gets a choice in his life. He has always has to deal with what is given to him. “Don’t,” he says.

“What?”

“Stay at Lady Burton’s.”

Stiles’ face goes pinched. “Once she is dead I cannot stay there. I will be kicked out by her rotten family.”

 “What about Scott’s family? Can you stay with them?” he asks.

Stiles blinks. He looks confused and he turns to Derek. “Y-yes, but they cannot afford to feed me. I do not know where you are going with this.”

He lets out a breath, and tries not to look like his heart is breaking. “Stiles,” he says. “You are miserable here and I – I barely figured out why. You can take whatever money you need. Take more than what you need and send me a letter if you want more.”

“I do not understand.”

Derek smiles weakly. “I know you did not choose this, and you can leave if that is what you want.”

Stiles’ lips part and he stares at Derek. “Is that what you want? Am I finally too much for you?”

He shakes his head. “No,” he says, voice cracking. “You are everything I want. But you can forget me if you want to, and you can be some place that makes you happy. You are not happy here, even though I like to believe that you are.”

Stiles swallows.

“Only come back if you want to,” Derek says, and he steps in. Stiles lets Derek kiss his cheek and he lingers, taking in the way his husband smells. Derek wanted so much for them, but it was too much to ask for.

Stiles’ eyes are shining when he pulls back, shining with anger and fear and hopelessness. Derek walks towards his room and falls onto his bed. He hopes Stiles will come back to him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed ;) Thanks for reading :) :)


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the wonderful pale-silver-comb :) :)

Their goodbye is sad in the early morning, the sun barely in the sky. Stiles has dark circles underneath his eyes and he steps into the carriage, strangely quiet. They stare at each other through the carriage window and Derek searches for something in Stiles’ face that says he will come back.

He hopes Stiles will be safe.

Laura takes his hand once Stiles is gone. “He will be alright,” she murmurs.

“I hope so,” he says.

“Miss Blake has definitely gone?” his sister asks.

Derek shudders but nods.

“I always wanted her to leave,” she says, “But I am sorry that it happened this way.”

He says nothing. He does not want to think of Miss Blake again, disgusted by all that she has done. Derek stumbles into the house, too tired, and Laura smiles at him gently.

“Go back to bed,” she says.

Derek shakes his head. “No,” he says.

His heart is already longing for Stiles, and it is worse not knowing when he will see him again. Derek had fallen asleep with dried tears on his cheeks, hoping that in the morning he would have the courage to do what needs to be done.

This place has been so miserable for Stiles, in many ways, and Derek did not notice  _ why _ . The servants have not been kind, and even though Derek does not care about Stiles’ wealth or status he forgets that other people do. He forgets that it affects Stiles more than he knows, and that Stiles does not have the luxury to ignore what people say.

If Stiles were to ever come back, if he were to ever be happy here, then some things need to change.

“Derek?”

He turns to his sister. “Can you please gather the servants? I want to speak to them all.”

Laura bites her lip. “Are you sure?”

He nods. “Now.”

She hesitates but does not persuade him to stop, to think about this and talk things through. Derek’s head hurts and he is angry. He does not care what he will end up saying.

His frustration flares up again as soon as he sees them all gathered downstairs. They do not look confused. The servants look timid, their heads bowed and their hands behind their back. Some of them look  _ guilty _ .

Derek knows that only Miss Reyes and Boyd have been kind to Stiles, leaving so many others who haven’t.

Derek is glaring at them all. Their whispers died as soon as they saw him, and the longer Derek stays quiet the more anxious they get. Miss Reyes is the only one who seems calm.

“None of you,” Derek starts, “Have treated my husband with kindness or respect. You have all endeavoured to make this place uncomfortable for him.”

He pauses, trying to figure out what to say. It has never been like this when he has told off his staff before. He has never raised his voice and he has never felt truly mad. It is different today, and they all know it.

“I believe I have been a kind and fair employer, and I have let you all take advantage of that. Do not expect me to tolerate your hatred anymore,” he spits. “How dare you all hate someone because they lost their parents young, because they had to grow up poor? You all disgust me.”

Derek catches his breath, and some of them think he has finished. The others know better and they wait with their shoulders tensed. Derek sees Boyd, but he refuses to meet Derek’s gaze.

 “I no longer care how long you have been with this family,” Derek continues. “I do not care if you knew my parents. If you treat my husband with disrespect, you will be gone within a day. You have forgotten that Stiles is also your employer, and when he returns, know that neither of us will hesitate to dismiss you. Do not expect a reference.”

His voice sounds harsh to his own ears, and the stillness in the room is unsettling. Derek clenches his fists, wanting to leave, but he needs to do one more thing. He searches the crowd of servants until he finds the face he is looking for.

“Mr. Meadows,” Derek says, smiling coldly. He waits for the man to step forward, the man who Stiles specifically named last night. “Shall we start with you?”

Mr. Meadows clears his throat. Derek can see him sweating.

“I swear I had nothing to do with what happened,” he starts, eyes wide. He keeps shaking his head. “ _ Nothing _ .”

Derek glares. “I do not know what you did. I just have my husband’s word that you have done something.”

Mr. Meadows scoffs. “That is hardly fair.”

“It is how it is,” Derek snaps. “You are dismissed. I know you have denied it, but if I ever find out that you – or any of you – helped Miss Blake, then you will be sorry.”

Derek turns around and leaves.

He does not stop walking until he reaches his room and closes the door. His blood is pounding through him, making him dizzy. He has never done something like that before. He has never yelled or dismissed someone so readily, and he wants to turn around and take it all back.

Derek unbuttons the top of his shirt so that he can breathe.

He barely knows if he has done the right thing, or if he did it in the right way. He wants so badly for Stiles to be comfortable here. Derek wants so badly for Stiles to consider this place home – a home with Derek.

Even if Stiles does not want to come back, even if he chooses to stay with Scott, this house will be a place that he can always come back to and be happy in.

**

Derek spends the rest of the day alone. He thinks his servants will hate him, and he is certain that he has never been so harsh in his life. He does not regret dismissing Mr. Meadows and he only wishes he made life worse for Miss Blake after what she did.

He sighs and thinks about writing to Stiles, but he does not know if his words will be welcomed.

He likes that no one disturbs him until the early evening, when Boyd knocks on his door.

“Boyd,” Derek says.

He pauses. “Sir.”

Boyd stays quiet while dressing Derek for dinner. He does not comment on Derek’s absence or the way he talked to the servants. It keeps Derek agitated, because he wants to know what they all think. He wants to know if he went too far.

“They must all hate me,” Derek says, staring in the mirror.

Boyd says nothing.

“I think I was too angry.”

“May I speak freely, sir?” Boyd asks, talking over him.

Derek stops. He does not know if he wants to hear this, not if his servant is asking to say something that Derek can’t get angry at him for. Derek knows Boyd is not afraid to be honest with him.

“You may,” he says, turning around.

Boyd looks at him. “You should have done that sooner. You should not have let your staff treat your husband that way. There is only so much that me, Miss Reyes, and the staff loyal to you can do. Do not feel guilty for your actions this morning, sir, feel guilty that you let your own husband feel uncomfortable in his own home for so long.”

Derek stares at him.

“If that is all,” Boyd says quietly.

“Yes,” Derek croaks.

He watches Boyd walk away and he feels worse than he did before. Derek does not know how he has managed to get everything so wrong, but he has. He needs to make it better.

He does not talk at dinner with his sister. It is quiet, lonely without Stiles there, and Derek already misses him. Derek hopes he is with Scott now, hopes that Stiles feels happier with his friend there. Derek wonders if Lady Burton is well enough to talk with Stiles, or if they are simply waiting for her to die.

In the next few days Derek keeps an eye on his servants. He remembers Boyd’s words and tries to see where he went wrong. All he knows is that he focused on all the wrong things.

Boyd hands him a letter the next night. Derek takes it, hating that they have barely spoken to each other recently.

“I found it underneath the bed. I think it fell there,” he says quietly.

“Thank you.”

The letter is not sealed, the paper folded in half and Derek’s name written in Stiles’ familiar handwriting. His heart lurches.

“Sir?”

“Yes?” Derek says, staring at the letter.

“I do not know what that says, but before you read that I wanted to apologize for how I spoke to you the other night.”

Derek smiles grimly. “You do not need to do that. I said you could speak freely and you did.”

“No,” Boyd says, placing his hands behind his back. “ As your – as your friend I apologize – not for what I said, but for the way in which I said it . I know you care about your husband very much, and you show that with everything you do.”

He feels warmed that Boyd considers them friends. “Thank you, Boyd,” Derek says. “I hope Stiles sees that.”

“He will,” Boyd says firmly.

Derek watches him leave, feeling grateful that he has Boyd’s unwavering presence in his life. He smiles to himself before looking down at the letter. He is too scared to find out what it says, but Derek makes himself unfold the paper, hands shaking.

_ Derek, _

_ You were sleeping and I saw tears stained on your face so I did not wake you. I do not know what to say without making things worse. I am still mad at you – at everything. I wish you saw how hard it is for me sometimes, but you are the sort of person that believes no one can be unkind. _

_ You are wrong, but you remind me that there is good in the world. I should have shared with you how I felt, any of the times you asked, but I was scared. _

_ I promise you that I will come back. With Lady Burton so unwell I may be some time, but I promise I will come back. _

_ I do not  _ want _ to forget you. _

_ Your devoted husband, _

_ Stiles. _

Derek sucks in a breath and he holds the letter to his chest. He closes his eyes and relief hits him hard.

Stiles is coming back.

Stiles does not want to leave him.

He falls onto his bed and reads the words over and over again, trying not to smile. There is heartbreak in Stiles’ words, even as there are things that make Derek happy. It is an odd letter to read but Derek is grateful to have it anyway.

**

Derek writes back the next morning, but he hears nothing else from Stiles in the next week. It makes Derek uneasy but he holds on to Stiles’ words.

He hears something about Miss Blake, that she got caught stealing from one of the local shops and was arrested. Derek hopes that it is enough to keep her away.

Everything settles with the servants. They work just as hard as before, and now a few of them smile again at Derek as he walks by. Miss Reyes tells him that things are calm between the servants without the influence of Miss Blake or Mr. Meadows.

Derek wishes, again, that he got rid of them sooner.

It’s late at night when he hears someone at his bedroom door. Derek’s body feels heavy from sleep, but he sits up and sees a silhouette in the darkness. He calls out.

“You’re awake.”

“Stiles?” Derek breathes. He can only see the outline of his body, but then there are footsteps and Derek can see the curve of Stiles’ jaw, the inky color of his eyes and the faint outline of his smile. “You’re here.”

“Yes, I’m here,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed, and Derek feels so overwhelmed. He sits up properly and reaches out, palms spreading over Stiles’ chest like he’s trying to believe that he is real. Stiles shudders underneath his hands.

Derek lifts a hand and cups Stiles’ cheek.

“I missed you,” Stiles admits. He leans into Derek’s touch. “Did you miss me?”

Derek huffs. “Of course I missed you. I - I  _ love  _ you,” Derek says, and that wasn’t what he thought was going to come out of his mouth. He drops his hand as Stiles’ breath hitches.

They stare at each other in the dark, and it is so hard to tell what Stiles is thinking.

“Derek,” he whispers.

Derek looks away, afraid that he has said something that Stiles doesn’t want to hear. He knows Stiles has missed him, but the last time they saw each other they had been fighting. Derek closes his eyes. He does not know if Stiles loves him back.

Then he feels cool fingertips press against his skin, sweeping under his jaw and gently urging Derek to look at him again. He sees wonder in Stiles’ eyes when he finally gives in, and Derek holds in a breath, feeling Stiles trace patterns onto his skin, over his cheekbones.

Stiles swallows in the dark. “Can I do this?”

Derek nods, sighing when Stiles runs a hand through his hair. It feels desperately good and he smiles a little when Stiles smoothes out his eyebrows. Derek sits back only to tense up when Stiles runs a thumb over Derek’s lips.

His mouth parts and Stiles pauses, looking him in the eye.

“Sorry,” he says, but he does not remove his hand.

“Stay with me,” Derek breathes out, and it’s only then that Stiles puts his hands in his lap, blushing. “I do not think the other bed is made. I did not know when you were coming back.”

“I know,” he says.

“Stay?” Derek asks hopefully.

He nods and smiles. “I am never leaving again,” he says, and even though he is still in his travel clothes he only takes off his shoes and climbs into the bed. Derek’s skin is thrumming as he feels Stiles lie next to him.

Derek’s confession lies heavy in the air and he wants to reach out and touch him, kiss him, but he doesn’t. Not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked the chapter <3 I couldn't leave it angsty for too long!!
> 
> Thank you all for your comments and for reading <3 <3


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to pale-silver-comb <3 <3
> 
> Enjoy!!

Derek wakes with Stiles next to him, his mouth open on the pillow. His clothes are rumpled and Derek cannot believe he is here after being gone for nearly two weeks. They had fallen asleep in silence, too tired, too overwhelmed to say anything more.

Derek told Stiles that he loves him. His face is hot as he remembers and he knows he should have waited, but at least Stiles knows. He knows that Derek cares for him with all his heart.

“Derek,” Stiles murmurs, his eyes still closed. Derek looks over to him and sees a faint smile on Stiles’ cheeks.

“Good morning,” Derek whispers. He turns so that he is lying on his side, and he keeps his hands close to his chest. He is afraid to touch Stiles here, afraid to find out if he isn’t wanted.

Stiles sighs. “I missed you,” he says again. “I wanted so badly to come back.”

Derek says nothing, but his heart is pounding. He does not want to scare Stiles away with how much he is feeling, so happy to have his husband back and sleeping in the same bed.

Stiles opens his eyes, and amber stares back at Derek. “You do not need to worry,” he says.

“I am not worrying.”

Stiles laughs quietly. He rubs his eyes and slowly sits up, leaning back against the pillows. Derek stays where he is, too nervous to move as he waits for Stiles to speak.

Stiles clears his throat. “I am sorry.”

Derek frowns. “What for?”

“I – I kept so much from you, and you were right,” he says. “I told you about, about _her_ , and now she is gone.”

Derek smiles sadly. “You do not need to say sorry. She is the one who should be sorry, Stiles.”

He shrugs.

“And I – I did not realize how miserable you were here,” he says. “I am sorry, and I wish I had.”

“I wish I had asked you to come with me to Lady Burton’s,” Stiles says. “I had Scott, and it was great to see him, but I felt lonely without you.”

Derek bites his lip, feeling shy. He felt those same things, along with his guilt and anger. He was lonely without Stiles, made worse by their fight before he left.

“And what of Lady Burton?” he asks quietly.

“She died four days ago, and the funeral was yesterday,” Stiles says. “I would not have a home right now if it were not for you.” He clenches his teeth together. “I do not understand how, how you could look at me, dance with me, and know that someday you might love me.”

Derek exhales. “I did not know I would feel this way,” he says. “It is all so foreign to me, but I feel it, Stiles. I feel it with all of me and I love you. I love you.”

It feels different to say it in the daylight, with the sun slipping through the window. Stiles is looking down at him, an unreadable expression on his face. Derek hopes, he thinks that Stiles believes what he is saying.

Stiles opens his mouth and a small noise escapes. Derek holds his breath, waiting, waiting, but there is a knock on the door and they are interrupted. Boyd steps through and his eyes fall on Stiles.

Boyd takes a moment, but he smiles. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Stiles says, glancing towards his own bedroom. He grimaces. “I suppose I should go, then.”

“Wait,” Derek says, sitting up properly.

Stiles turns to him, but his cheeks are too flushed, his eyes too wide. Derek wants to know what he was going to say, but it is too late.

“Mr. Meadows is probably waiting for me,” Stiles says. “I think some of the staff knows that I am back.”

Boyd clears his throat. “He is not here.”

Stiles frowns, climbing out of the bed. He blushes when Boyd sees that he did not even bother to change his clothes. “Why?”

“He has been dismissed.”

“Dismissed?” Stiles squeaks. He glances at Derek.

“Yes,” Derek says quietly. “You did not like him.”

“No,” Stiles says, his voice distant. “I did not.”

Derek grimaces. He should have gotten rid of Mr. Meadows sooner, but he did not _see_. He couldn’t tell that he was a problem.

Boyd takes a step forward. “I can look after the both of you today, sir.”

Derek looks at his husband.

Stiles nods, twice. “Yes, I can – that would be good. Thank you.” He smiles at Derek, looking suddenly shy. “I will see you at breakfast.”

Derek smiles back at him, watching him disappear into his room.

**

He arrives at breakfast later than Stiles does, and his sister is already talking with Stiles. She seems delighted, even relieved to have him back here.

“Derek, there you are,” Laura says, smiling up at him.

Stiles looks over his shoulder. “Your sister is telling me that you yelled at all the servants.”

Derek glares at his sister.

“I thought he could use a little warning,” Laura says.

“Did you?” Stiles whispers.

Derek sighs. “I did. I did not like it, but they need to treat you properly.”

Stiles looks down. “They think I am lower than them.”

“You are not,” Derek says firmly, walking around the table and sitting down. “You never have been, and you can dismiss them if you wish.”

Stiles grins slowly. “I can?”

“Please be kind,” Laura says, sighing. “There are only so many servants I can afford to replace in such a short time. But you will be pleased to know that I have already paid for an advertisement in the newspaper. A few people will be coming at noon tomorrow and we can find a replacement for Mr. Meadows.”

Stiles turns to her. “Can I be there?”

Laura smiles. “Of course. You will be the one who has to put up with the person we hire.”

Derek shakes his head at her words, but he catches Stiles smiling at him. He seems pleased and confused at the same time, but also lighter than he has ever been. There is so much less for him to worry about now.

“We will find you someone,” he says quietly.

“Thank you,” he says back, and Derek feels like they have finally done something right.

**

They watch their third applicant leave the library. He had come with a good reference and a pleasant smile, and Derek turns towards Stiles, hopeful.

Stiles shakes his head.

“I liked this one,” Derek says.

“Derek, this isn’t working,” Stiles says, rising to his feet. He lets out a noise and starts to pace the room, stopping and starting every so often, like he is trying to figure out what to say.

“What is wrong?” Derek asks.

“I – it’s so hard to tell what they think of me when we interview them, and then they will show their true colors once you are not there,” Stiles says. “They won’t believe I have any sort of power over them.”

“But –”

“This is not as easy as you think it is,” Stiles whispers. He comes closer then, and there is a pleading look in his eye. He pauses. “Can I please have Boyd?”

Derek stills.

Stiles sits next to him again. “He respects me and I respect him, and he listens to me, and he likes you, he likes us together. I know you are fond of him, but please Derek, all this is so tiring and I know any servant would treat you right.”

He wants to say no. He is used to Boyd, they know each other, and they are friends. Boyd has been his servant for years, and the last thing Derek wants to do is give him up.

“Please,” Stiles whispers, and Derek closes his eyes, trying to think, trying not to be selfish.

“Sure,” he croaks. “You – you can have Boyd. I will have the new servant.”

Stiles smiles and he reaches for Derek’s hands. His skin is warm. “Thank you, Derek. Thank you so much.”

Derek looks back at him. “I want you to be happy here.”

“I know,” Stiles says firmly. “I know. Thank you. I promise it won’t be goodbye, Boyd will only be in the next room.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “I do not feel like interviewing anyone else,” he says. “And I did like that last man. We can hire him.”

“Are you sure?”

He nods. “Do you want to leave here and go for a walk together?”

Stiles grins. “Yes, yes, I do.”

Derek stands. He does not want to give up Boyd, but he can already see relief settling in Stiles’ shoulders. He seems dazed, but happy, and Derek is glad to give this to him.

They walk side by side down into the village. The air whips around them, and they stop at a bakery for a pastry. Stiles goes quiet for a moment, taking the pastry with shaking hands, but he smiles again when he realizes Derek is not going to ask about the food he eats.

Derek knows it still hurts, to think about, to talk about. He can wait for Stiles to come to him, now that the problem is not so severe.

“I would like to stop by the hospital,” Derek says quietly.

Stiles wrinkles his nose. “Hospitals are quite sad places.”

“It will only be for a moment,” he says. “I need to talk to Deaton.”

“I think I will wait outside,” Stiles says. “I do not particularly like Deaton.”

Derek frowns. “He is not... rude to you?”

Stiles shrugs. “I think he is rude to you too, but he saves lives so I cannot judge him too much.”

He laughs in return, and Stiles gets a pleased smile on his face. It makes Derek’s heart warm, and he wonders, he wonders what that look in Stiles’ eye means. He wonders what it means when Stiles’ face goes soft, when he forgets he has been looking at Derek for too long.

Derek looks to the ground, trying not to feel lost, and they continue on to the hospital. He has to wait twenty minutes for Deaton to be available, but Derek sits with Stiles outside and they talk about easy things.

Some of the villagers walk past and greet them, glancing at Stiles, but they are easy to ignore. Stiles sits near him, pressing their shoulders together for warmth. It is nice.

“Lord Hale, you wanted to see me?”

Derek turns around. Deaton is standing there, sleeves pushed to his elbows. He looks tired.

“Yes,” he says, walking forward. Stiles stays where he is. “I was wondering if you still needed another pair of hands in the hospital.”

Deaton narrows his eyes. “Are you offering your services, Lord Hale?”

“No.”

 He sighs. “Yes, I still need more staff. Is that all?”

Derek smiles hopefully, looking over his shoulder. Stiles seems uncomfortable alone, playing with the hem of his clothes, and Derek turns back towards Deaton. He hopes that this will be enough, that this is what will make this place feel like home.

**

They return to the house, taking in the inside warmth. Stiles stands too close and he helps Derek remove his coat, his hands lingering on Derek’s chest.

“What did you need to talk to Deaton about?”

Derek takes a breath. He is suddenly nervous, not sure if this is something that Stiles really wants.

“Derek?”

He tries to smile.

“Is something wrong?” Stiles asks, taking a step back. They are in a hallway, anyone could walk past, and Derek was going to do this later, when they were alone.

“Nothing is wrong,” Derek says. “I went to ask him if he needed more help at the hospital.”

“Why?”

Derek lowers his voice. “I thought, perhaps, that Scott and his mother could come and live here. They could work in the hospital.”

Stiles goes quiet, and his eyes begin to glisten. He looks so beautiful, his lips parted as Derek waits for him to say something.

“Really?” he breathes.

Derek nods.

Stiles looks stunned, and Derek just stands there. He doesn’t expect the way Stiles comes forward and throws his arms around Derek’s shoulders, pressing his whole body into Derek’s.

“Thank you,” Stiles mumbles into his neck, breath wet on Derek’s skin.

He can feel Stiles holding onto him tight; can feel him with every part of his body. Derek slowly winds his arms around Stiles’ waist, breathing him in. It is so good to have him home.

“I – I want,” Stiles says, and his voice is muffled.

He pulls back a little, breathing heavily. Stiles opens his mouth to speak, but he stutters.

“What do you want?” Derek asks, his heart in his throat. Stiles closes his eyes, brushing their noses together.

“Derek,” he says. “I want – I want you to make love to me.”

Derek stops.

“Please,” Stiles says, his voice hoarse. He opens his eyes again and they are muddy, dark, wanting. His eyelashes dance over his cheeks. “Will you make love to me tonight?”

Derek stares back at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He nods, barely knowing what to say. He wants so badly to give this to Stiles, he wants so badly to love him and keep him safe. Stiles sighs in his arms, and then they hear footsteps down the hall.

“I will see you tonight,” he murmurs, and he slips away, Derek watching him as he leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for all your lovely comments :D
> 
> I will be changing the rating for the next chapter <3 I hope you're all looking forward to it!!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the amazing pale-silver-comb <3 <3

Derek waits only a step away from the door, his body already wanting. His skin is warm and his heart beats hard. He is clean and scared and hopeful. He wants his husband, wants him against him, around him, in him.

Derek startles when he isn’t the one to knock. He takes a deep breath, completely unsure of himself, but he likes that Stiles is coming to him, is choosing him. He opens the door and there is Stiles, looking lovely. They stare at each other.

“We don’t have to do this.”

Stiles shakes his head, his eyes warm and sure. He isn’t smiling, but he wets his lips, like he needs this as much as Derek does.

“I trust you,” Stiles says.

Derek catches his breath. He knows how much those words mean and how hard they must be to say. Derek doesn’t dare move as Stiles comes closer, and soon there’s only an inch of space between their bodies.

He can feel Stiles’ breath on his mouth.

“I need – I need you to kiss me, please.”

“Stiles,” he says, desperate.

“Please,” he says again, closing his eyes. His eyelashes rest against his cheeks and he stands there, waiting.

Derek knows how much Stiles is giving him, and it makes him sweat. He doesn’t want to do something wrong or touch him the wrong way, but Stiles _trusts_ him.

“Derek?” he whispers.

“I’m here,” he says, and Derek can hear every breath between them. He presses their foreheads together and Derek slowly runs a thumb down Stiles’ throat. Stiles makes a soft noise and his lips part.

Derek kisses him.

It is alarmingly gentle, but Stiles still shudders. Derek’s heart is flying from the thrill of it, the feel of it, and then Stiles is pressing into the kiss, opening his mouth and darting out his tongue against Derek’s lips.

It is almost too much and Derek breaks away, gasping.

Stiles’ eyes are dark and his cheeks are flushed. Derek wants more than he knows how to say, and it was perfect, the careful press of their lips together. Derek can still feel it.

“ _Derek_ ,” Stiles says, and then he’s kissing Derek again. His arms wind around Derek’s neck and his body is warm, so warm, and Derek tries his best to kiss back, barely knowing what he is doing. He cannot think and it’s different from anything he has ever known, and they kiss and kiss until neither of them can breathe anymore.

Stiles runs his fingernails through Derek’s hair. “I have waited so long to do that,” he murmurs.

“You have?” he whispers back.

Stiles ducks his head, shy. His lips are red and he looks utterly gorgeous, like he is begging to be kissed again. “I – I wanted it a lot,” Stiles says. “But I – ”

“I know,” Derek says. He has been scared too.

Stiles kisses him again, deeply, and Derek needs him closer. He needs the promise that Stiles will never let him go and he feels brave enough to slip his fingers underneath Stiles’ night shirt.

Stiles pushes him away.

“Sorry,” Derek says, dazed.

He shakes his head. “No, no, I want to undress you.”

Derek stills. He lets his hands fall to his sides, and the drunk, happy feeling of Stiles’ lips on his own fades a little.

“Please,” he says.

Derek nods, and slowly, slowly, Stiles lifts the bottom of his shirt. He keeps his gaze on Derek, careful not to touch his skin, and his whole body thrums.

Then the shirt is on the floor and Stiles is looking at him and licking his lips. Derek wants to hide but at the same time he wants more, he wants Stiles’ hands on him.

“I like the way you look,” Stiles whispers. He cups Derek’s face.

Derek’s cheeks go hot under Stiles’ hands. He feels naked, even though he isn’t yet, and he’s getting hard. He tries not to feel guilty for it, because Stiles wants this, he wants this, and his eyes look eager as he drags his fingers down the side of Derek’s neck.

Derek shivers, and there are hands on his collarbone, over his chest, near his hips, and then Stiles dips his fingertips into the fabric of his pants.

Stiles hesitates.

“You can,” Derek says, voice hoarse. “You can do it.”

Stiles bites his lip, nervous, but Derek wants to give himself over, he wants Stiles to have his body, have his heart.

He looks away as Stiles undoes his pants, and then he is sliding them down Derek’s legs, leaving him exposed. He feels like his whole body is shaking.

Stiles leans forward and kisses just under his jaw. “You can touch me,” he whispers. He reaches for Derek’s hands and he places them over his chest, on his nightshirt.

Derek makes a noise and pulls him closer. He knows he is blushing and he buries his face into Stiles’ neck, breathing him in, liking the feel of someone else’s clothes against his skin.

He can hear Stiles’ breaths in the air, and his heart is thudding hard.

“Stiles, I’m not – I don’t,” he stutters. “Please tell me what to do.”

“I trust you,” he says again. “You can do anything, Derek, you can touch me anywhere.”

Derek pulls back, and he looks into Stiles’ eyes. They are dark, longing, patient.

“But –”

“I want this,” he says. “I can help you.”

Derek can’t help but kiss him then, drawing his husband close as he tries to hide himself against Stiles’ body. He touches Stiles, hesitant at first, but then wherever he can, and he moans when he slides his hips against Stiles’.

Stiles sighs into his mouth, and he pushes Derek towards the bed. Derek wants to see him, wants to see his body in half light of the room, and he tugs at Stiles’ shirt.

Stiles stops. He’s straddling Derek’s waist, and Derek can feel his arousal. It is shocking and thrilling all at once, and Derek lies back, breathing heavily.

“Please, let me see you,” Derek says, and Stiles nods. His eyes are hooded but he lifts his shirt and throws it to the floor.

Derek sees moles and smooth stretches of skin, and he is beautiful this close. His necklace dangles from his neck and Stiles hesitates, but he rises to take off the rest of his clothes, and Derek stares at him in awe.

“Do you have any oil?” he asks.

Derek nods, breathless. “It’s in the drawer,” he says, and Stiles goes to find it. Derek can see the curve of his ass and his pale, pale skin. Then Stiles turns and there’s his hard cock. Derek feels his body go hot.

Stiles swallows. He drags his eyes over Derek’s body.

“You need to open me up,” he says softly. “But I can do it if you want me to.”

Derek stares at him. “I want to do it.”

“If you’re sure,” he says, and Derek nods. Stiles sits on the edge of the bed and reaches out, his hand shaking. His fingers trail over the hair at Derek’s thighs. “I want to touch you first.”

Derek groans and covers his face, feeling his cock throb.

Stiles sucks in a breath and he slowly circles his hand around Derek. His touch is warm, tentative, but every brush of his fingers sends shocks through Derek’s body.

“No one has ever touched you before, have they?” Stiles whispers.

“No.”

“I am glad,” he says. “I can have you all to myself.”

“I’m yours,” Derek says, hips stuttering into Stiles’ grip.

Stiles slows down his movements, and then he isn’t touching Derek anymore. Derek whines and opens his eyes, and it looks like Stiles was the one being pleasured. His lips have been bitten raw and his neck and chest are pink.

“Here,” he says, passing the vial of oil into Derek’s hands.

Derek tries to breathe, and he takes it, sitting up properly. Stiles brings their lips together once more, for a sweet, lingering kiss.

He lies on his back and tells Derek to coat his fingers with the oil, and then he guides Derek’s hand between his legs. He winces at first, and Derek thinks he has hurt him.

“Should I stop?” Derek whispers.

“No – no,” he says, stuttering, and Derek keeps his movements gentle. He drags it out, doing what Stiles tells him to do, taking the time to lean forward and kiss Stiles’ hipbone, his thigh, his knee.

Stiles’ eyes are lost, shiny, and he brushes his fingers across Derek’s cheek, his other hand curling into Derek’s hair. His hold tightens as a look of pleasure passes over his face and he groans, pushing himself onto Derek’s fingers.

“I’m ready,” he says, breathing heavily. He swears. “I need you.”

Derek nods, feeling shaky, and he lets Stiles pull him upwards, lets Stiles crash their mouths together. The kissing is still new to him, but now it’s desperate, and Derek hurts all over. He’s aching to feel Stiles, to be in him, to love him.

“Stiles,” he pants, breaking away.

Stiles grabs his shoulders and presses their foreheads together. “Please,” he says. “Please, Derek.”

Derek fumbles, but he manages to get some more of the oil before lining himself up. Stiles holds his gaze and slowly, slowly, Derek pushes into him.

He makes a broken noise, and Stiles’ fingernails scrape against his back. Derek holds himself still and he feels like he might shatter, like it might end too soon, because he has never felt something so good, so intense.

Stiles moves his hips a little and hisses. “Oh, God,” he says.

Derek grips at the sheets. “Stiles?”

“I’m – I’m okay,” he says, closing his eyes.

Derek tries not to move. He wants more but he wants this to be good for Stiles, he wants this to be perfect and he waits. He waits until Stiles’ legs wrap around his waist, until Stiles tells him he can move and he does and - and Derek loves him.

Derek loves him so much, and has done for so long, and he can’t help but feel it as they move together. Their skin is sticky together and Derek wants to give himself over completely, he wants to tell Stiles all this once his mind is not so clouded with pleasure –

“I love you too,” Stiles says, breathing hard.

Derek stares at him, and Stiles' eyes are full of wonderment.

“I love you,” he says again, and Derek can’t take it anymore. He shudders and his body is heavy, tired, and it takes everything in him not to just collapse.

He doesn’t have to wait long before Stiles is gasping beneath him, and then there’s a mess of more than just sweat between their bodies. Derek presses his lips into Stiles’ skin as Stiles shakes, and he feels Stiles’ hands in his hair.

He falls to the bed and Stiles curls into him. Derek finds that he doesn’t feel guilty for what they just did, it was honest and right and he made love to his husband.

“Thank you,” Stiles says.

Derek turns to him. “I didn’t do anything.”

“I never thought someone would be able to love me,” Stiles whispers. He rests his head against Derek’s chest. “I never thought anyone would care about me.”

He lifts his head and smiles at Derek.

“I am very glad I was wrong.”

“Me too,” Derek whispers, turning towards him. He links their fingers together and brushes his lips against Stiles’ forehead. Stiles sighs and they lie side by side, gathering their thoughts.

Stiles suddenly laughs.

“What?” Derek says, frowning.

Stiles turns onto his stomach, leaning forward on his elbows. “Do you remember what I said to you the night we met?” he says, voice turning playful.

Derek shakes his head. Stiles said a lot of things to him that night.

He smirks. “Now that you’re married, are you ready to face a lifetime of pure boredom in the bedroom?”

Derek’s lip twitches.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he whispers.

Stiles grins at him, fiddling with the necklace around his neck, the one he said he’s had his whole life. His amber eyes shine with happiness and Derek’s heart warms and soars. He thinks he has never felt so close to Stiles, and he has never been so grateful to have him here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked all the kisses and the rest of it!! Thank you for all of your comments <3 You guys make me smile so much.
> 
> I promise that Stiles will be meeting a certain someone next chapter!!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to pale-silver-comb :) :)

They barely sleep that night, and after spending so long without touching each other they cannot stop. Derek likes the way Stiles kisses him, slow and careful, and they keep their hands on each other’s skin even as they stop to talk in the darkness.

They are tangled together when the new servant walks in on them. Derek hides his face in his pillow, not wanting the tranquillity to end, not wanting another person to see them like this together.

“Good morning,” the servant stammers.

Stiles ignores him. He brushes Derek’s sweaty hair from his forehead, leaning in close. “Do not do any work today,” he whispers.

Derek tries to open his eyes. “I have to,” he says.

“Please.”

“If that’s what you want,” he murmurs sleepily. Stiles smiles at him and sits up, the heat of his body disappearing. He glances at the new servant before he leaves, wrapping one of the sheets around his waist.

“There is a bath ready for you, sir,” the servant says, and Derek’s face goes pink. He leaves the room and washes away the night before, feeling pleasantly sore in so many places. He thinks he can still feel Stiles’ touch.

He doesn’t speak to his servant as he gets dressed, too embarrassed, too tired, and he misses Boyd a little too much. It is strange to have to get used to someone new.

Derek finds Stiles outside the breakfast room, waiting for him. His hair looks soft and clean, and he has a smile on his face. Derek ducks his head, unsure what to say now that they have been so intimate with each other.

“Good morning,” he utters.

Stiles takes a step forward. “I was hoping that we could go down to the lake together. I sometimes go down there when you are busy working.”

Derek lifts his eyebrows in surprise. “You do?”

He nods, brown eyes almost glowing as he places a quick kiss on Derek’s jaw. His heart stutters, and he leans in for more, but that’s when Stiles grins and opens the door to the breakfast room. Laura is waiting for them.

“Stiles, there is a letter for you,” she says.

Stiles rushes forward, sweeping the letter from her hands. His face brightens. “It is from Scott. I wrote to him yesterday, after – after you told me Deaton had space for him at the hospital.”

Laura looks alarmed. “Is your friend well?”

Stiles nods. “Yes, he is very well,” he says, and Laura looks confused. Stiles bites his already red lips as he scans the words on the page, taking in their meaning, and then he clutches the letter to his chest.

“What does he say?” Derek asks.

Stiles grins up at him, his eyes a little wet. “Scott and his mother will be here within a week. He is going to work at the hospital, and he will stay here, and I will be able to see him whenever I wish.”

“That sounds wonderful, Stiles,” Laura says softly.

Stiles nods, but he is already looking at the letter again, sitting down and forgetting to put some food on his plate.

Derek moves slowly around the table and takes his seat. He has so many regrets, and he wishes he had done something like this sooner. He wishes that he had encouraged Scott to come and visit more often, or for Stiles to go and see his friend.

“There is no letter from Lord Stilinski,” Laura says quietly to him.

Derek sighs.

“Perhaps you should start working on something new, Derek,” she says. “I do not think you can rely on him.”

He shrugs and takes a bite of his food. He will worry about that later, but right now he has promised to give his day to Stiles.

Derek watches his husband read, watches the smile that stays on his face. He frowns when he sees that Stiles’ plate is still empty. Derek reaches forward and gently nudges the basket of toast closer.

Stiles looks up.

“Do you want any of this?” Derek says quietly.

Stiles hesitates, but then he carefully places the letter in his pocket. He nods and takes a piece of bread.

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you for talking to Deaton.”

He shakes his head. “You do not need to thank me.”

Stiles ducks his head, and he looks inexplicably happy. Derek’s heart warms for him and he believes, now, that everything will get better.

**

They step up to the lake, and Stiles’ skin looks soft in the morning light. They stare at the water and Derek remembers when he proposed here, when Stiles hesitantly accepted his offer of marriage. So many things have changed since then.

“Derek?” Stiles asks quietly.

“Yes?”

“I know that at breakfast I did not eat much again,” he says, “But I promise I am trying to get better. It is... easier... now, with her gone, but I can’t, I can’t always do it.”

Derek smiles sadly and opens his arms. Stiles comes easily to him, tilting his chin up so that he can look Derek in the eye.

“Please let me know if there is something I can do,” Derek whispers.

“I will,” he says, smiling softly. He leans forward, body warm, and brushes his lips against Derek’s. Derek closes his eyes.

Stiles sighs when he pulls away.

“I love you,” Derek says.

Stiles grins happily at him and he takes Derek’s hand, leading him around the lake. He takes off his jacket and lays it carefully on the grass.

“No one can see us here,” Stiles whispers, pointing to the trees. He sits on his discarded jacket and stretches out, crossing his ankles and lying on his back.

Derek looks at him.

“Come and lie with me.”

Derek is unsure, but he gives in, and in the daylight he hardly feels like he knows what he is doing. Stiles rolls towards him and they are side by side.

“I want you to hold me,” he says, and he places Derek’s hand on his waist.

“Here?” he whispers.

Stiles nods, and very slowly, he kisses Derek.

They are alone, definitely, but it still feels as if the world is watching. Stiles’ kisses are warm and his hands rest against Derek’s chest. The air is filled with his breathy sighs and Stiles presses closer to him, the heat of his body almost too much.

Derek feels light headed and he sits up. Stiles smiles up at him.

“I like kissing you,” Derek confesses. “But -”

Stiles comes forward and places his hands on Derek’s shoulders. “We can do as much or as little as you would like, Derek,” he says.

Derek nods and his neck is hot. His hands do not shake as he pulls Stiles onto his lap, and they kiss each other, remembering the night before. Derek hopes he can always stay this close to his husband.

Derek pulls away, breathing hard.

“Do you want to swim?” Stiles says, voice strangled.

He frowns. “What?”

“In the lake,” Stiles says, smirking.

“Oh,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. The water is calm, still. “I have not done that since I was a child.”

Stiles’ eyes twinkle teasingly, his long fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt.

Derek’s mouth goes dry and he watches as Stiles strips to his undergarments. He takes off his shoes and he dips his bare feet into the water.

He hisses. “It’s cold!”

Derek stands shakily. He cannot believe he is going to do this, but he likes how light, how vibrant Stiles is out here.

“Of course it’s cold,” Derek says, raising an eyebrow. “If you wanted to swim we should have done it a month ago.”

Stiles grins over his shoulder, stepping into the lake. He shudders when the water reaches his hips. “I guess you will have to keep me warm.”

Derek flushes, but he quickly undresses until he too is in his undergarments. He reaches the water, knowing that no one is watching, but it is still thrilling as he wades towards Stiles.

Stiles immediately throws his arms around Derek’s neck, and the warmth of his body is a blessing in the chilly water. He clings to Derek, legs easily wrapping around his waist in the water. It makes Derek shiver and Stiles kisses him.

They break away some time later and splash at each other, their laughs echoing around them. Afterwards, Derek finds that they had managed to soak their clothes anyway, and they do not bother waiting pointlessly for them to dry.

Stiles’ face scrunches as he pulls on wet pants.

Derek smirks at him. “This was your idea.”

“I will change at the house,” Stiles says, not bothering to button his shirt properly. His necklace glints in the sun. “Hopefully the poor servants do not see me.”

“I am sure they’d survive,” Derek says, doing his clothes up properly. The fabric sticks to his damp skin.

They move quickly, even though it is unlikely someone will see them. They wait at the back of the house, near the stables, and Derek almost regrets swimming with Stiles when he has to ask a servant to find them some towels.

“Did you have fun?” Stiles asks quietly.

Derek turns to him. “Yes,” he whispers.

Stiles opens his mouth to speak when they hear the stable door swing shut. Derek’s eyes widen as he sees Lord Stilinski leaving the horses, and he swears under his breath.

Stiles blushes, folding his arms. He stands behind Derek.

“Lord Hale,” Lord Stilinski says, coming towards them. He has an eyebrow raised.

Derek greets him, thankful he is fully clothed even though he is mostly wet. “I am sorry, but we were not expecting you.”

He nods. “I did send a letter, but I hear it did not come. I have been here for a few hours already but your sister said you were out until this afternoon.”

“Yes,” Derek says, clearing his throat. He steps to the side, ready to introduce Stiles to Lord Stilinski. Stiles is fiddling with the necklace around his neck, face blank, and then Lord Stilinski’s expression turns dark.

“What is that?” he says, voice hard.

Derek stops in confusion. “Lord Stilinski?”

“That is _mine_ ,” he says, narrowing his eyes. He is staring at Stiles, staring at him with a look of anger on his face. “How dare you steal that from me?”

Stiles’ face closes down. His shoulders tense and he stands there, letting Lord Stilinski yell at him. Derek opens his mouth, wanting to stop this, but nothing comes out.

“That is my necklace,” Lord Stilinski says.

Stiles narrows his eyes. “I have had this my whole life.”

Lord Stilinski takes a step forward, and anger sweeps through Derek’s body. He does not understand why someone he knows and looks up to is acting this way, but he cannot let something like this happen to Stiles again.

“ _Lord Stilinski_ ,” Derek says, raising his voice. The both of them jump. “That is my husband you are accusing of theft. I will have to ask you to leave if you continue to harass him in this way.”

Lord Stilinski stops. He does not look away from Stiles, his mouth hanging open.

“I will need you to apologize to him,” Derek says coldly.

He blinks, still staring at the necklace around Stiles’ neck. Lord Stilinski steps backward and looks embarrassed. “I am sorry,” he says.

Derek glares. “You had no right to speak to him that way.”

Lord Stilinski nods. “I – I apologize,” he says, facing Stiles properly.

“I have had this my whole life,” Stiles repeats. He holds onto the necklace, like he is afraid to lose it. There is too much quiet between them all and the more time passes the more unsure Lord Stilinski looks. Derek is about to suggest that they go inside, but Lord Stilinski finally speaks.

“What is your age?”

“That is none of your business,” Stiles replies, shifting at Lord Stilinski’s steady gaze.

“Please,” he says.

Derek watches them both. Stiles’ eyes are full of irritation and Lord Stilinski is standing there in a daze. He does not seem to care that both of their clothes are wet, and his eyes only flit between the necklace and Stiles’ face.

“I am twenty two years old,” Stiles says. He turns to Derek. “I do not want to be here.”

Derek nods, and even though they are waiting for the servant, they head back into the house. They leave Lord Stilinski standing there, and Derek does not know what to think. Lord Stilinski’s actions were so unlike his character.

Stiles turns to face him once they are in the bedroom. His eyes do not look as angry as Derek thinks they will be.

“I cannot believe you did that,” he whispers.

Derek frowns. “I did not do anything.” He pauses. “Did I?”

Stiles steps forward and presses his fingers to Derek’s cheek. “You like everything to be comfortable, and nice, and...” He shakes his head and smiles. “But you stood up for me today; you stood up for me against someone of your own standing, someone that you admired.”

Derek drops his head, ashamed that Stiles is so surprised.

Stiles brushes his thumb across Derek’s lip. He huffs. “I thought you said Lord Stilinski was kind.”

He shrugs, because he thought that was the truth. But the sight of Stiles’ necklace made him look lost, made him look sad. Derek reaches forward and gently traces the outline of the pendant.

“Can you please tell me about this?” he asks.

Stiles frowns. “There is not much to say.”

“You do not have to,” Derek says quickly.

He sighs and sits on the edge of the bed. His clothes are still damp, and there are a few droplets of water in his hair. “No,” he says. “I should – I want to tell you.”

Derek takes a breath. He sits close to his husband.

Stiles touches the chain around his neck. “This is all I have left,” he says. “At the orphanage they told me that there had been a fire in the village, a fire that ruined half the town and that caused my mother to have me too soon.”

He stops. Derek holds out his hand, relieved when Stiles takes it.

“They told me that the man my mother was travelling with had perished in the flames. But,” he says, voice sad. “The fire did not kill her, I – I did, when she gave birth to me. Before she died she put the necklace she was wearing around my neck, and that is why I have it now. That is all I know.”

Derek looks at him. “You did not kill your mother, Stiles.”

He shakes his head. “I was born from ashes,” he says bitterly.

“It was the fire that killed her,” Derek says. “I promise.”

Stiles looks back at him, and Derek does not know how long it will take to make him think anything else. Derek is at least glad Stiles is sharing this with him.

“Lady Burton visited the orphanage when I was six years old,” he says. “I tried to steal something from her, and she laughed, and then she decided to take me home with her. I do not really understand why.”

Derek smiles faintly.

They both get dressed and when they can wait no longer, they head back to one of the living rooms. Derek wonders if Lord Stilinski will still be here, and his question is answered when the man awkwardly clambers to his feet.

Stiles sighs behind Derek, and Lord Stilinski sucks in a breath.

“Please, let me apologize again. I did not mean to accuse you of anything,” he says, talking to Stiles. “I was confused.”

Stiles looks at him coldly.

Lord Stilinski runs a hand through his hair. Derek has never seen him look so flustered. “I have a similar necklace to the one I saw you wearing,” he says quickly. “I do not wear it, but I take it everywhere with me. I – I have it now.”

He pulls out a necklace with a striking resemblance to the one Stiles has around his neck. It is the same shape, the same white color, and they all stare at it.

“Stiles...” Derek says, trailing off. He glances at Lord Stilinski, and he is looking at Stiles, looking at him like he might be the answer to all of his prayers.

Lord Stilinski pulls a small locket from his pocket. “This was my wife,” he says in a rush, passing it to them. In the case there is a little oil painting of a woman with brown eyes and a kind smile.

Stiles’ nostrils flare. “I do not understand why you are telling me this.”

Lord Stilinski looks at him hopelessly.

Derek turns to his husband. His whole body is vibrating with anticipation because he thinks he knows, he thinks he knows why they both have the same necklace, why Lord Stilinski is acting this way.

“I think we should listen to him,” Derek says under his breath.

Stiles glares.

“You do not have to,” Derek says. “But trust me, please?”

His husband stares back at him, and finally, he nods. They both turn towards Lord Stilinski, and Derek is eager to know what he will say.

“My wife was pregnant,” Lord Stilinski says quietly. “She was travelling with her brother to see her family, and I did not want her to travel while she was with child, but she insisted. They stayed overnight in a small village, but there was a fire.”

Stiles stills.

“She died,” he says, clearing his throat. “She and her brother died. I thought my unborn child died along with them. I did not get to bury them; to stop the spread of disease they had to bury all the victims together.” He breathes out, and it sounds harsh in the air. Derek can see the sadness in his eyes.

“When was this?” Stiles asks, his voice faint.

“It was twenty two years ago,” Lord Stilinski says, his eyes on Stiles. “My wife died twenty two years ago, on the last day of March.”

Stiles’ face goes white. He starts to shake and Derek steps behind him, puts his hand on Stiles’ waist, hoping that his touch will help.

“Stiles?” he whispers.

He stares at Lord Stilinski, holding onto Derek’s arm. “I was born on the last day of March,” he stammers. “I was born the same day your wife died, and there had been a fire. I have the same necklace as you.”

Lord Stilinski has tears in his eyes. “I gave that necklace to my wife the day we married.”

Stiles sways on the spot. He closes his eyes and a broken noise falls from his lips, his fingers touching his chest where the necklace sits beneath his shirt. He is breathing heavily and it takes some time before he can speak.

“Are you my father?” he says, his brown eyes open and looking so, so scared.

Lord Stilinski nods, taking a step forward. “I hope so. I think so.”

Derek sees tears running down Stiles’ face.

“It is not a lie?” he whispers.

Lord Stilinski shakes his head. “No,” he says. “No. It is the truth, it is the truth and I am sorry. I did not know you existed.”

Stiles turns towards Derek, even as Lord Stilinski steps closer. He presses his face into Derek’s chest, unsure, shaking. Derek can hardly believe what is happening, but he knows with his whole heart that this must be the truth.

He knows that father and son have reunited.

“Would you like me to leave?” Derek whispers into Stiles’ ear.

“No,” he says, voice shaky. “Stay.”

Lord Stilinski tries to smile, a few tears rolling down his cheeks. “Please,” he says. “Tell me about yourself? I’ve missed out on your whole life.”

Stiles laughs wildly. “I – are you sure I am who you think I am?”

“Yes,” Lord Stilinski breathes. “Yes. You look just like her.”

He ducks his head, shy. “I do?”

Lord Stilinski nods, looking like he wants to come closer, like he wants to reach out and touch the son he never met.

Stiles stays back, like he isn’t sure if this is something that he can have, but he whispers, “Will you tell me more? Will you tell me about my mother?”

Lord Stilinski smiles, eyes kind and happy. “Of course,” he breathes.

Derek sits, and gently pulls Stiles next to him. He still seems like he is in a daze, and Derek knows that Stiles deserves to have this. He knows now that neither Stiles nor Lord Stilinski have to be lonely anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked the chapter!! and I hope you all liked the father/son reunion :D  
> Everyone can be happy now :) :)
> 
> Only one more chapter!! I will try and post it as soon as I can <3
> 
> <3


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to pale-silver-comb who has been a wonderful person throughout this whole fic <3 I really appreciate your help and enthusiasm <3 <3

Not everyone believes their story, but it does not matter. The look of wonder in Lord Stilinski’s eyes cannot be faked, the hope in Stiles’ smile is more than any of them could have asked for.

“I have a father,” Stiles whispers, late at night. Derek holds him in his arms. “I thought that it would be impossible.”

Derek trails his fingers along Stiles’ spine. He tells Stiles he deserves a family, a miracle, and everything in between.

It takes some time before Stiles has the courage to be alone with Lord Stilinski. Neither of them knows how to act or what to say, but there is suddenly life in Lord Stilinski’s face. It is impossible not to notice.

Laura stands by the window, smiling. “I am very happy for them both.”

Derek looks over her shoulder. They can see Stiles and his father walking in the gardens. “I am too,” he says quietly. “Isn’t it strange that Stiles’ father is someone we have known our whole lives?”

“It is more of a happy coincidence,” Laura says gently. She turns to him. “I think we should hold a ball to celebrate.”

Derek sighs.

“Please,” she says, eyes going purposefully wide. “It has been so long since we last had one, and Scott is arriving tomorrow. He deserves a proper welcome.”

Derek shakes his head.

Laura leans in and kisses his cheek. “Please think about it.”

He nods, knowing that if Stiles does not mind it then he will give in. He wants his sister to have something to look forward to, and after all, he met Stiles at a ball. He cannot hate them too much.

They step away from the window to give Stiles some privacy. Derek can barely believe that the last few days have happened, that something so good could happen to Stiles after years of a miserable life. Lord Stilinski has made indefinite plans to stay, eager to know his son now that they have been reunited.

And Stiles seems to like him.

He comes away smiling each time he talks to his father, his eyes bright, and he listens carefully to every word Lord Stilinski says. It is delightful to watch, and there is happiness in every part of the house.

Then they are all waiting for Scott to arrive, and Stiles seems to forget about propriety when his friend steps out of the carriage. Derek hears him _laugh,_ and the two embrace like they are long lost friends, holding onto each other tight.

“I cannot believe that you are here to stay,” Stiles says as he pulls back.

Scott grins. “I cannot believe it either,” he says. “And I am very happy I am not a servant anymore. Lady Burton’s nephew is horrible.”

Stiles shudders, but then his eyes widen when he sees a dark haired woman. “Mrs. McCall!” he says, voice full of delight. “I am so glad that you are here.”

“Stiles, it is lovely to see you,” Mrs. McCall says, laughing. She looks up, her eyes a rich brown as she takes in the house. “What a beautiful home.”

“It is a nice place to live,” Stiles says softly, looking at Derek. They smile at each other. “Mrs. McCall, I would like to introduce you to my husband.”

Derek takes a deep breath and steps forward. Stiles has always spoken well of Scott’s mother, and Derek wants her to like him. He wants her to think that this is the best place Stiles could possibly be.

He introduces her to his sister, who smiles graciously, and then Stiles clears his throat nervously. He places his hands behind his back.

“This is Lord Stilinski,” Stiles says quietly. He glances at his friend. “Scott, Lord Stilinski is my father.”

Scott stands very still.

“Scott?”

His voice turns sharp. “Is it true?” Scott says, but he is not looking at Stiles. He is not looking towards his friend for the truth, not looking towards the person who has wanted a father for all his life.

Derek returns his gaze. “I believe so.”

Lord Stilinski comes forward. He smiles gently. “It is a long story,” he says. “But it is nice to meet a friend of Stiles’.”

Scott narrows his eyes and everyone seems to hold their breath.

“Perhaps we should get you settled in,” Laura says firmly. “Mrs. McCall, how were your travels?”

“The trip was long,” she says calmly, a hand on her son’s arm. Scott’s happy smile is gone. “But we were very excited to come here.”

Laura smiles and she leads Scott and his mother inside. Lord Stilinski follows slowly, keeping his distance.

Stiles stays behind.

“Scott does not believe me,” he says. He lets Derek come close to him.

Derek kisses his forehead. “Scott is trying to protect you,” he says softly. “But there is no reason to doubt.”

Stiles tries to smile, and Derek gently reminds him of the necklaces, the matching stories, the date of Stiles’ birth. It is more than enough, and Derek cannot think of what Lord Stilinski might gain if it is all a lie.

“Thank you,” Stiles says, sighing.

Derek links their fingers together. “It will all work out,” he promises.

**

Scott listens carefully to them, and Derek can see Stiles wishing desperately that his friend will believe their story. Scott doesn’t want it to be a lie, no one wants it to be a lie, but perhaps it is good that at least one person is wary.

It helps that Scott is already familiar with one of the necklaces. It helps that Scott already knows stories of the orphanage, and it helps that Mrs. McCall remembers Lady Stilinski when she was pregnant and then when she died.

Stiles’ eyes go sad at that, and Derek wants to comfort his husband. He feels in his heart a burst of longing for his own parents.

But it does not take too long to convince Scott that his friend has found his father, and then a smile emerges on his face. He too cannot take his eyes off Lord Stilinski for most of the night.

It is late when Derek clears his throat. His sister and Mrs. McCall have already retired for the evening. “Laura told me that she would like to hold a ball.”

Stiles turns to him, a teasing look in his eye. “I thought you did not like dancing.”

Derek shakes his head. “It – it is not all bad,” he says, cheeks heating. He loves having Stiles in his arms, in any way. “But perhaps a ball will be nice.”

Scott’s eyes widen. “I have never been to a ball before.” He stops, blushing. “At least, I have always been a servant at a ball.”

Stiles grins. “Well then we must have one.”

Lord Stilinski nods, putting his drink down. He smiles sadly. “Before my wife died, she would hold wonderful balls. She always made sure that we had at least one dance for the servants,” he says. “I think they enjoyed it.”

“I wish I could have met her,” Stiles says quietly.

Lord Stilinski rests his eyes on his son. “She would have loved you very much.”

Stiles swallows, and the room goes quiet.

Derek reaches over and takes his hand. He runs his thumb over Stiles’ skin, and he hopes that Stiles knows that there are many who love him now.

**

“Thank you,” says Scott.

Derek looks up from his work. His desk is covered in pieces of paper and he has been going over his business plan with Lord Stilinski. He is relieved that it is so far going well.

“You’re welcome?” Derek says, a slight frown on his face.

Scott smiles. “I know you were the one to talk to Deaton. And now I can do something that I love, and I can see my friend every day.”

“Oh,” Derek says. “You do not need to thank me.”

“I want to,” he says, earnestly. “Thank you.”

Derek nods, and for the thousandth time he wishes he had done this sooner. Stiles seems much lighter, brighter, with his friend in the house. It is so good to see.

Stiles spends most of the day with Scott now, walking down to the hospital or taking walks outside. Derek does not mind – he has plenty to do – but he likes that Stiles comes home to him. He likes that at night Stiles cups his face and kisses him sweetly.

“And he has told me that he is happy with you,” Scott says quietly.

Derek drops his gaze, pleased.

Scott grins and leaves him to his work. Derek can hear Laura’s voice in the hallway, sounding excited as she gets everything ready for the ball. She has told him that this time it will be a smaller affair, that they will not invite so many people.

Derek is glad. He thinks that it will be much nicer for everyone.

A few days later they are downstairs, telling the servants that they have their own dance. The room fills with chatter, with Derek standing gruff and awkward behind his sister. He is not sure what his servants think of him now, and he hopes that he will never have to discipline them again.

Laura surprises him by leaning over and whispering to Miss Reyes. “I hope Boyd will finally ask you to dance.”

Miss Reyes’ cheeks turn a wonderful pink. She stammers. “I hope so too, Lady Laura. He has certainly been taking his time.”

Derek shakes his head, a smile on his lips as he catches Miss Reyes’ eye. He hopes that two of his favorite people will find some kind of happiness together too.

**

The servants have known for some time that Stiles is Lord Stilinski’s son. It was never a secret, but none of them have dared to say anything about it.

But at the ball, with its pretty music and sweet smelling flowers, the guests are not afraid to murmur.

“Do you want me to say anything to them?” Derek asks, frowning.

Stiles shakes his head, but his eyes are warm and grateful. “No,” he says. “You do not need to. I am enjoying the looks on their faces.”

Derek glances at the crowd of people. Their eyes are wide, shocked, but their smiles are rather frequent. Derek does not know what to make of it.

“I think they all know how much money Lord Stilinski has,” Stiles says, smirking. He looks incredibly pleased with himself, and he is not exactly the orphan he was before. “I have never had so much fun at a ball.”

Derek tries not to laugh, and he finds that he is enjoying the evening more than he thought he would. It is not so lonely with his husband by his side, and there are more than a few familiar faces in the crowd.

Stiles turns to him, a glimmer of something in his eye. “It is like I am _someone_ now.”

Derek tangles their fingers together. He keeps his voice quiet. “You have always been someone, Stiles.”

“I know,” he whispers, leaning forward. Stiles brushes his nose against Derek’s cheek and he lingers, before dropping a kiss to the corner of Derek’s mouth.

Derek’s lips part and he wants to draw Stiles closer, but he can’t, not here.

Stiles takes a step backwards, hiding a grin. He keeps his eyes on Derek. “I should find Scott.”

Derek finds himself nodding, and he watches his husband walk away. He is wearing fine clothes, dark over his shoulders and with a cut that accentuates his waist. Stiles looks more and more like he is comfortable here, like he wants to be here, like this is his home.

It makes Derek happy.

He walks around and talks to the people he should, and he sees his sister introducing Mrs. McCall to some of their guests. He sees Stiles out of the corner of his eye, wherever he goes, and Derek cannot wait until they are alone again.

Derek hears someone clear their throat. He turns around.

“Lord Hale,” says Lord Stilinski.

“Please, call me Derek. You are a part of the family now.”

He smiles, and briefly places a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Thank you, son,” he says. “I am very grateful that I get to have a family again.”

Derek nods, knowing that Stiles must feel the same way.

“Oh,” says Lord Stilinski. “I think they are having the servant’s dance.”

Derek looks over, and there are excited voices as the floor clears and all the dancing couples move to the side.

Laura beams at the edge of the room. “This is the first time we have done this, but we are very grateful for our staff and we think they deserve to have a dance or two. I know you all have been practicing your steps.”

She waves her hand and the music picks up again. The floor stays empty for a moment, before a few shy couples make their way onto the floor.

Derek searches for Miss Reyes. She stands on the other side of the room, her hands in front of her, and she looks around eagerly. Her eyes are bright and she looks incredibly lovely, wearing a simple, pale blue dress.

Boyd is only a few steps away from Derek, at the edge of the crowd, and Derek wonders if he is ever going to approach Miss Reyes.

“Boyd?” Derek says, coming closer. Another couple starts to dance.

“I know, sir,” he says. “She is waiting for me.”

Derek smirks. “If you wait any longer Miss Reyes will be the one asking you to dance.”

Boyd  smiles. “I would not mind if she did ask me,” he says, and then he takes a deep breath. He takes a few strides across the room and holds out his hand in front of Miss Reyes.

She looks at him through her eyelashes, a flirtatious smile on her lips. It is not a look Derek is used to seeing from her, but he is very glad when Miss Reyes takes Boyd’s hand.

Derek turns back to Lord Stilinski and they watch the servants dance, watch the way they giggle as they become more comfortable dancing in front of everyone. Most of them do not know what they are doing, but hardly anyone in the room minds.

The dance ends and another starts, more couples making their way to the floor. Derek stills when he feels someone come up behind him.

“It’s me,” Stiles says, murmuring in his ear.

Derek calms, and he is glad to hear the sound of Stiles’ voice. He turns so that he can see his husband.

Stiles is grinning, looking towards the servants. “This was a good idea,” he says to Lord Stilinski.

“I am glad you think so,” he says back. Then he gives them a knowing look. “I will leave you two alone.”

Derek says nothing, trying not to blush, and Stiles steps up to him.

He has a pleased smile on his face. “I cannot believe that he exists.”

“He does,” Derek reminds him.

“I – I know,” he says quietly. “But he asks me about my life, and I do not have much to say. I do not want to upset him because I have little happy memories. But I tell him about Scott, and Laura, and Erica, and you.”

“You do?” Derek whispers.

Stiles nods, smiling. “Yes. Lord Stilinski is quite fond of you. He tells me stories of you, of when you were just a child.”

Derek’s cheeks go red.

“If – if I had not lost him,” Stiles says, forcing the words out. “We still would have met each other. But I do not know if we would have married or if it would have been like this.”

His throat feels very dry.

“I love you,” Stiles says. “I wish so many things were different, but that is one thing I do not want to change.”

Derek holds out his hand. He sees the honesty in Stiles’ eyes and he wants to have Stiles close, he wants to whisper into Stiles’ ear that he loves him too.

 “Would you care to dance?” Derek asks, the music loud around them.

Stiles grins, and he lets Derek pull him into his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the end!!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this last chapter and the fic as a whole :D Thanks to each and every one of you for reading to the end, and for everyone's support throughout this thing <3 I really appreciate it and it made this fic a lot of fun to write!!
> 
> You all are the best.
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://matildajones.tumblr.com) :)


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